


Fallen (High School AU)

by cristianoronaldo



Series: Fallen [1]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2017-12-09 01:22:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 27
Words: 114,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/768339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cristianoronaldo/pseuds/cristianoronaldo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High School AU </p><p>Fernando hates Cristiano who likes Sergio, but kind of might be crushing on his new roommate. Gerard loves Cesc who loves Iker who is hiding an explosive secret. Andres is not "Andrew" and he really can't understand why someone he obsesses over doesn't even know his name.<br/>High school sucks for everyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crush On You

**Author's Note:**

> I realize the statistical impossibility of absolutely everyone being gay, but I chose to ignore it and write this and my life is only uphill from here.

Iker Casillas was student body president, captain of the football team (not the rec one, he might add with a teasing smile if he were speaking to Steven Gerrard), and an overall shining senior, the star of Hastings Academy. Best of the bunch. 

A saint. Or at least that’s what they called him when he walked out on the pitch with his electric green trimmed gloves waving in the air. Black and shocking green and his shocking, brilliant smile. 

And he was a saint off the pitch as well. He saved the senior class by getting Campbell’s to donate 3, 700 cans in the canned food drive, just beating out the juniors by ten (a feat which made Sergio and Cristiano refuse to speak to him for a week--overcompetitive assholes that they were). He helped the sophomores make their homecoming decorations in his free time and donated money to the car wash after David Villa misplaced the bucket. He was, in all honesty, the hero of Hastings Academy. 

But there was one in particular who looked up to Iker, who noticed the little things he did, who watched the way he chewed on his pen in class and glared enviously as Iker made his way to the all girls’ school a few blocks away. Cesc was just a sophomore with a pathetically low self esteem when it came to Iker and the heartbreakingly true belief that Iker would never look at him, at least not that way. 

And he was half right. Iker did notice him, just not that way. He saw the way Cesc looked up to him and he told Sergio and Cristiano to look out for him although his words were lost on the air. “That Cesc is a good kid.” Sergio would nod and Cristiano would shrug. 

But Iker was Iker (unobservant as usual) and he wasn’t about to see past the fact that it wasn’t just looking up to him. It was a crush that had gone all the way back to third grade, when Iker was a fifth grader. He had turned to Cesc in the hallway and asked, “Sorry what time is it?” 

And Cesc had just gaped at him because he had a bloody nose from playing football earlier and stupid Gerard’s fat elbow knocked him in the nose. There was blood all down his front and he was talking to Iker Casillas, the one the teachers all loved and the other students all fawned over. So maybe the crush began before that day. Maybe Cesc had just sort of always seen Iker and thought, Wow if only some part of him were mine. Or even, if only he knew I belonged to him. 

Two days before, there was the contact Cesc had been looking for. He wasn’t in the starting XI, but he was used as a sub and, since it was just a scrimmage before the season even started, he was pleased. Iker hugged him at the end of the game and told him he did a good job. Cesc blushed and recounted it to Gerard several times (Gerard of course being the only person Cesc had ever told) who promptly responded with a punch in the arm and, “You’re fucking pathetic, man.” 

“I know,” Cesc replied with a grin. “But at least I know that I am, right?” 

“Sure, sure, whatever makes you happy.” Gerard stretched out on Cesc’s bed and watched as he dreamily talked about Iker’s arms and Iker’s eyes and Iker Iker Iker. Gerard zoned out like he normally did and put his feet on Cesc’s pillow like he hated, his private rebellion. 

He did stuff like that sometimes. Dated girls he knew Cesc found annoying, went to parties he knew Cesc would roll his eyes at, hung out with people he knew Cesc would hate. That’s what he gets. That’s what he gets for never noticing. Not once in all the time they’d been friends. Not once had he ever noticed. 

It’s not that Gerard hated Iker. It’s just that Cesc loved him so much. Iker was Cesc’s football captain and Gerard respected him as such (although it was more for Cesc than any pride he had in the school), but he also didn’t waste time waiting to call him a pale prick with a stick up his ass. In his head of course and only when Cesc wasn’t around. Cesc had a radar for that sort of stuff. 

“Gerard, don’t make that face when I’m talking about Iker,” Cesc would whine and Gerard would try his hardest to find Cesc annoying and it even worked, but it only made him love his best friend all the more for it. 

He rolled over on Cesc’s bed as the tale was recounted over again. He groaned into the pillow and wondered if Cesc would even notice if he up and left. 

-

“Alonso!” Stevie called after History. “Hey, Alonso!” 

Xabi finally looked up from the textbook in his hands, his thoughts a million miles away. “Sorry, what’s that, Stevie?” 

“No, nothing.” They effortlessly kept pace with one another as they threaded their way through the crowd of people, most of them parting to allow Xabi through. The way students worshipped certain people made Stevie roll his eyes. But he didn’t mind so much when it was about Xabi. Hell, he sort of worshiped the boy himself. 

“I was just coming over to say hi. Was going to try and convince you to join rec again.” He made a hopeful expression and something in Xabi’s heart lifted. “Come on, you don’t want to be stuck with those pricks on the real team with real football and real uniforms.” 

He pulled on Xabi’s arm and Xabi rolled his eyes. “Come to rec where the kits are known to fall apart and half the time we don’t even know who we’re playing. Hell, half the time we don’t even play on a real pitch.” 

His voice rose dramatically and Xabi couldn’t help but smile. “But it’s blood and sweat and tears. It’s rec football where dreams are crushed and you learn how to lose like a man, sobbing in the locker room together because rec is fucking serious shit.” 

“Inspirational,” Xabi muttered with a smile. He knew Stevie was good enough to be on the competitive team for the school. He was good, so good, and when the team and the rec team practiced together (because they took pity sometimes), he and Xabi were flawless together. 

The only reason Stevie wasn’t on the team was because of his grades. The rec team had become notorious for being a little more brutal, a little more thick-headed, and mostly reserved for people with lower GPAs. 

Now Xabi knew that just wasn’t true. The rec team had no clue how to time challenges, half of them just waiting for the ball to magically float to their feet. And plenty of them just joined for something to do in high school that wasn’t super high pressure like the competitive team was. 

As for the lower GPA part, Xabi knew that to be true. To be on the team, you had to have a high enough GPA, teacher recommendations, parent permission unless you were over 18. All sorts of stuff to be able to kick a ball around. But Xabi loved it enough to follow through and to put up with the pretentious bullshit. 

He accepted that there was a certain standard for members of the team and he had no trouble keeping his grades up. Xabi was a studier and most of the reason why people had actually voted him senior class vice president was because he often helped them with their own homework and they knew he was qualified for the job. 

“I do pride myself on being rather inspirational.” Stevie grinned and smacked Xabi’s arm. “We’re gonna do it, Xabi. We’re gonna win the rec cup this year. Senior year, I gotta do it. And then we’ll play you guys in the friendly at the end of the year and we’ll beat you to get that tiny plastic trophy if it’s the last thing I do.” He poked Xabi in the chest playfully but Xabi could see the hunger in his eyes. 

“No rec team has beaten us for 17 years, Stevie. Don’t get your hopes up.” Xabi stopped outside his english classroom and raised his eyebrows. 

“Fucking asshole,” Stevie said fondly. “See you in Ethics, yeah?” 

See you cheating off my paper in Ethics, Xabi thought with a wry grin. 

-

“I knew you owned a hair dryer,” Sergio practically shouted across the table at Cristiano. Iker watched the two of them with mild interest and vaguely wondered why he loved his two best friends so much. “I knew it. I fucking knew it. That’s why your locks are so luscious.” 

Iker looked at Sergio blankly for a moment, then to Cristiano, then back at Sergio. “Are you two fucking again?” 

“Well not at the moment, Iker.” 

“Thanks, Sergio, but believe it or not, I have eyes. I can see that you’re not fucking at this exact moment in time. Fucking idiot.” 

“Language, dear saint,” Cristiano said in his usual bored tone, picking at the free lunch he got every day because the lunch lady was obsessed with him. Iker wondered with some interest if he would eventually get around to screwing her too. Probably. 

“I want to run my hand through his hair,” Sergio said enthusiastically. “Just look at it.” 

“Sergio’s getting sexually frustrated,” Cristiano sighed. “Iker, take him outside and walk him around before practice please. I don’t want him to get too restless.” 

“That’d be so hot though. On the field. Oh yes.” Sergio looked rather pleased with himself, but he was unable to phase Cristiano. Iker saw with perfect clarity the love between them, but he had no clue what kind it was. 

“Are you just horny right now?” Iker flicked his candy wrapper in Sergio’s direction and he nodded, completely unashamed. “Come to St. Anne’s with me after school and I’ll find you a girl.” Sergio didn’t look impressed. “Two?” 

“Iker, you naughty boy.” Cris smirked. 

“Just stop talking about Cris’s luscious locks because now I can’t stop staring and this is really distracting. I can’t unsee this.” Iker cringed and tried to go back to his English homework. Maybe Xabi would be around to help because this book was making absolutely no sense to him and English (well, every class if he was being honest) normally made sense to him. 

Sergio looked pleased. “Holy crap, I’ve successfully gayed Iker.” Meanwhile, Cristiano whined, “Shut up, Sergio, that was me who gayed him.” 

“Shut up, Ronaldo. How do you feel about playing left bench?” Cristiano made a face. “Ramos, how do you feel about playing right I’m going to throw you off a fucking cliff.” 

“How do you feel about shutting the fuck up.” Sergio was grinning from ear to ear. 

Cristiano leaned forward and said, “How do you feel about screwing me after school when we get our room assignments?” 

It was the infamous room assignment day. For a week, the students are allowed to stay with parents to settle in, or the school would set them up in a hotel nearby. Sergio was a hotel kid and his parties were the only important thing about the first week of school. But after the first week, the assignments were handed out, it was time to get down to business, defeat the Huns, etc. 

Sergio nodded emphatically. “Yes. I’ll walk you home.” 

“What a gentleman,” Cris muttered under his breath, opening his Pre-Calc notebook. Honors, Iker noted with a smile. He was a lot smarter than he let on. Worked a lot harder than anyone thought. Besides, he tutored Sergio in his free time and was basically the only reason Sergio could stay on the team. Grades were not Sergio’s strong point. He was good at debate because he could confuse everyone enough for them to just sit down, but that was about it. 

Cristiano spent his time tutoring Sergio, and then they screwed. And then they went back to studying. Rinse. Repeat. 

“Then who’s walking to St. Anne’s with me? What the hell, guys.” Iker was determined to keep up appearances. And besides, he enjoyed going. They wore their skirts short and their tops tight. Why would you miss going to an all girls school? 

“It’s your fault you’re straight,” Sergio said with a shrug. 

“Fuck you and no it’s not. And you’re straight too!” Sergio had a girlfriend a few months back but that didn’t stop him from making eyes at Cristiano every chance he got. 

“I swing both ways and Cris fucks everything with a heartbeat and if it’s remotely shiny, he might mistake it for a heartbeat.” He patted Cristiano’s head fondly. “Poor thing. So yeah, I’d say we’re not exactly straight.” 

“I hate you both,” Iker groaned, throwing his pen at Cristiano. “I don’t want to walk alone.” 

“Don’t be such a pussy,” Cristiano said, throwing the pen back. “Just go alone and ask out that lovely girl you were talking to the other day.” 

“Who? Sara? Anna? Michelle?” 

Cris shrugged like it hardly mattered. Sergio clapped him on the back. “Those are called names, sweetie.” 

“I know what names are. They’re to keep track of who you’ve slept with and who’s next.” Iker rolled his eyes. 

“You’re such sluts. Why am I friends with you?” Iker rubbed his face irritably. “I’ll just have to ask someone else to come with me. Iker was about to ask them if they’d seen Xabi, but Sergio was already mouthing dirty things across the table and Iker had to look away before he burst out laughing. 

-

“I fucking hate pre-calc,” moaned Cristiano as he made his way to the next class. 

Sergio sighed. “Shut up. I’m stuck with a bunch of sophomores in Algebra 2. And there’s even a freshman which blows my mind.” 

“Yeah. But scope them out, okay?” 

Sergio nodded quite seriously. “I saw a few cute ones that I either didn’t notice last year or they changed or something, but yeah I’m so willing to--” 

Cristiano smiled gently. “I actually meant for the scrimmage after school. See who we want to pick to be on our team so we can kick Iker’s ass.” 

“Oh, right.” Sergio thought about that for a moment. “Right.” He smiled. “Okay, I’ll look and have a list by the end of the day.” He waved and moved across the hall to his own class. 

Cristiano smiled at Sergio’s retreating form and wondered for the millionth time what was going on. That always seemed to be the question in Cristiano’s mind, ever since he had met Sergio a few years ago and they’d become fast friends. 

Cristiano knew he wasn’t exactly the most innocent person. If things were based purely on sexual exploits and the prudish beliefs of the strictest religious foundations, he’d be burning in the seventh circle of hell. But he did like to think he had some nice qualities. And one of those nice qualities just happened to be loving Sergio Ramos. 

Loving him in some weird, complicated way where they both refused to acknowledge what was happening. After they messed around, Sergio would lay in bed and mutter “you’re perfect” or “I love you so much.” And he’d look at Cris and smile and Cris would say it back, but there was no real relationship. It was I love you as a friend and also you give great blowjobs, so thanks. 

The strange thing was that what both of them needed to hear was “I like you.” They already knew they loved one another, but they really needed to hear that they genuinely liked one another, as more than just friends. But both doubted that would ever happen. 

Cristiano opened the door to his next classroom and settled into his usual seat with a weary sigh next to a very quiet Fernando Torres and a few seats behind that annoying little shit Lionel Messi. Fucking sophomore in his class and he had the nerve to turn down the school team to play for rec. Asshole. When the team approached Cristiano to play after tryouts with that look on their faces like there was finally something he was good at, there was no way in the world he could turn it down. 

It was something to cling to after his father died as well. Football was something important to him and then it became his everything. 

Every class period was like this. Walk in and reflect on how much he fucking hated the class, stare at the back of Leo’s head and wonder why the fuck he had to be in this class (he’s a sophomore, can he just stop) and wonder what the hell made him think he was better than anyone who didn’t choose rec. Like congratulations, you’re different. 

Just on principle, one doesn’t say no to the team. You just don’t. 

“So, Fernando,” Cristiano said, stretching and grinning, relishing the glare Fernando sent him. “How are you today, sunshine?” And why do you despise me so much? What did I ever do to you? Cris was sure he did something. He just wasn’t sure what and Fernando wasn’t willing to release the information. 

Fernando looked up from his math textbook. “Do you mind? I’m trying to study.” 

“Fucker,” Cristiano muttered exactly when Mr. Cruyff walked in. Demon teacher, Cris thought, struggling not to glare at him. Every class period he practically rode Leo’s dick as he whispered the answer. Another thing that bothered Cris about Leo. His inability to say the answers loudly. If he’s going to raise his hand every five fucking seconds, he might as well shout the answers loud and proud. Cris had started raising his hand more often, his answers growing increasingly louder as the day went on. 

“What’s that, Ronaldo?” Cruyff asked as he set his books on his desk, turning to face the class. “Something you want to share with the rest of us?” 

“Yes, sir. I was just called Fernando here a fucker.” Cristiano smiled pleasantly at his math teacher. 

“I see.” Mr. Cruyff smiled tight-lipped. “Is this something you want to see the dean about?” 

Cristiano actually let out a laugh and Fernando’s glare intensified. A visit to Mourinho’s office would actually be welcome. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” Cristiano replied, struggling to keep a straight face. “Please don’t send me to Mr. Mourinho.” 

“Unless you want a 0 for today’s class,” Cruyff said, walking forward slowly, “I suggest you stay quiet and refrain from harassing Torres for one day of your miserable life.” 

“Yes, sir.” Cristiano saluted him. Leo turned around and looked at him with a surprising amount of hostility. Cristiano smiled his normal smile and Leo blinked. Turned pink. And turned back around to pay attention to the start of the lesson. 

Well. Some things never change. 

-

Fernando jostled Cristiano on his way out of the classroom. He thanked God for the millionth time they weren’t teammates. He didn’t do a sport, thank you very much. Schoolwork was his top priority and then he would go watch a game and picture himself back out on the field like he used to, before he moved to this private school where the boys acted like 12 year old drama queens 800% of the time.

But he did remember what his mom said about this being the best option, the best school in the country. If a college saw you were from Hastings and your grades were good, they considered you before anyone else. 

So that’s why he went on at this school, even when his mom asked if he wanted to transfer because she never saw him with any friends. He’d shrug and say, “Mom, really, I love it here. But look, I can’t use my phone for much longer, so can I call you back tomorrow? The dorms are great and so is the food. Love you!” He always ended on a happy note, so that’s what she remembered. 

Contrary to popular belief, he did have some friends. Xabi for one. Normally he was busy with student council and the million other things that boy managed to fit into his day, but occasionally he did come to sit with Fernando at lunch and he stressed about all the applications he had to get done. 

He’d turn to Fernando to ask about his and Fernando would have to remind him he was only a junior and all that was still a year away. 

He was friendly with Iker as well, although Iker was friendly with everyone. Mostly they just sat side by side when they wanted to get homework done. Iker would ask him how his day went and Fernando would reply, “Good, how about you?” And Iker would reply, “It was okay.” And then they would stop there and get back to their schoolwork. 

Sitting with Iker was pleasant, although it did mean Fernando would have to put up with seeing dumb and dumber, Sergio and Cristiano. Sergio was painful to see. He was infuriatingly beautiful and dramatic and loud and Fernando wanted to talk to him, wanted to get to know him, but he wasn’t going to fool himself into thinking that was possible. And he wasn’t going to fool himself into thinking there was much substance underneath it all. 

And Cristiano... Don’t even start him on Cristiano. Every single class period he had to sit there and think about how Cristiano was probably screwing Sergio again because everyone knew that was a thing. Or it was a rumor anyway. Most people just laughed it off like yeah, sureee that’s true. Maybe Fernando was just gullible or maybe he noticed the way they looked at one another. Either way, that was one rumor he believed wholeheartedly. 

Cristiano with his maddening smile and inability to keep quiet in class was a constant reminder of everything Fernando wasn’t. And everything he would have to be to ever be noticed by someone like Sergio. 

-

Lionel couldn’t sit through another retelling of the chapter. Everyone was getting it wrong and if there was one thing he hated more than anything, it was people getting things wrong. 

Gonzalo Higuain, a sophomore like him and apparently one of the glorious “chosen ones” lucky enough to be hanging out with Iker (who, granted, was a nice guy) and his band of douchewads, raised his hand. “Excuse me, but I, like, don’t understand why we have to do this because I already, like, read the whole chapter and no offense, but some of you have really annoying voices and it’s making me hate the book.” 

Pep, their young English teacher, nodded energetically. He asked people to call him Pep because he didn’t feel like a Mr. Guardiola anyway. “Right, no more chapter recaps. We want everyone to enjoy the book. Why don’t we go in to where Caroline is speaking to... yes, yes....” He flipped through the book some more. “Yes.” 

He had a habit of stopping in the middle of his sentences. “Now what happens here? What did you get out of this scene?” 

Gonzalo, who was surprisingly good at English despite his inability to form a sentence without using “like” a trillion times, raised his hand again, resting his feet on Karim Benzema’s lap who nodded approvingly at his participation. “Caroline is a complete bitch. Like she’s making fun of the Bennet family and like who the hell does she think she is? Do you know what I mean? Like what’s so fucking great about Caroline? I bet she’s not even that hot. Like it fucking enrages me that she thinks she can get away with this kind of shit. What does it matter if your family has old money? Caroline is really, like, annoying me right now.” 

Karim started a slow clap and the rest of the class followed suit, clapping enthusiastically. Someone Leo didn’t recognize stood up and nodded emphatically. “Brilliant,” he murmured before taking his seat again. 

Leo rolled his eyes as Pep nodded carefully. “Good, Gonzalo. Wonderful. I’m glad you’re so passionate about this, but if we could keep the language to a minimum, that would be great.” He nodded. “Great, anything else?” 

Before he knew it, Leo’s hand shot up and he was staring Gonzalo down and speaking before Pep called on him. Speaking out of turn was absolutely appalling to Leo because he hated people like that, but he hated their blind worship of this asshole much more. So he figured it was just a matter of choosing between two evils. 

“I think Caroline is being treated a little unfairly. Sure, she insults the family and that’s not right at all, but you have to take into account that she loves Darcy. She’s known him for much longer than Elizabeth has and Elizabeth just comes in and all of a sudden, Darcy’s talking about how gorgeous her eyes are. So obviously she’s going to be a little rude to the Bennet family. It all stems from jealousy, and love, so maybe we should give Caroline a break. Sure, she’s rude and annoying, but I wouldn’t exactly call her a bitch.” 

Leo was surprised at how much he managed to get out without even thinking. Maybe he was better at English than he thought. 

“I would,” Karim said with a shrug and the rest of the class followed suit. Leo rolled his eyes. Of course. 

The rest of class was spent arguing what exactly made a bitch a bitch and when it was appropriate to call someone a bitch and Pep just stood there with a mildly interested expression, interjecting something like “Please keep the language to a minimum” but no one listened because it was pretty much the only class they could cuss in without getting sent to the dean’s. 

After class, Pep ran straight to the office to make some photocopies and it was just Gonzalo and Leo left in the room. It was a little weird for Leo to see Gonzalo without Karim and the rest of his loyal band of followers, but he found it oddly comforting that Gonzalo was sort of just a normal person underneath it all. Maybe. Leo snuck a glance at him and reminded himself that Gonzalo was friends with Sergio, Cris, and all them. So maybe not. 

“Hey, Leo, right?” He heard when he was almost out the door. He looked back to see Gonzalo walking towards him, trying not to be offended that Gonzalo wasn’t completely sure about his name. He opened the door and they stepped outside together. Leo lingered just outside the doorway, unsure what it was all about. “I like what you said in seminar today.” 

“Oh, yeah... thanks.” Leo stayed rooted to the spot and Gonzalo looked perfectly comfortable. 

“So, yeah enjoy your day or whatever.” He grinned. “Hope you meet your Darcy soon. Or, you know, your Elizabeth Bennet. But I can see you with more of a Darcy type. Because you’re so sweet and unassuming. Need someone to get some viciousness up in this bitch, am I right?” He smiled and slapped Leo’s shoulder, running down the hall to meet back up with Karim. 

Karim patted Gonzalo’s head affectionately. Separation anxiety must have been awful, Leo thought coldly. 

-

Andres stood at the front of the class with shaking hands. That Daniel Agger kid was staring him down and he was supposed to be giving a presentation. Fuck you, he thought. Fuck you very much. He was one of those rec players, one of the ones that gave them their bad reputation with his tattoos and strange piercings. Or at least Andres thought that was a piercing. Better not look at him long enough to be sure. 

Andres thought he was just about the most terrifying person in the universe and then his teacher told him he had to start the presentation and Andres would rather sit in a broom closet with Daniel Agger for three hours straight than ever start the awful thing. 

But the teacher moved it to the next slide and suddenly it was like Andres was on the pitch and he knew exactly what he was doing again. He had practiced it a million times and when he spoke, he spoke assuredly. His face lit up and he didn’t stumble over a single word. 

The TA in the back of the classroom looked up when he finished and gave him a smile. Xavi, Andres thought numbly, is actually looking at me. 

Xavi was somewhat of a dark cloud over Hastings Boys’ Academy football. Three years ago, when he was a freshman, he had a starting position. That hardly happened to anyone ever in the history of the Academy. He was player of the whole season, easy. Sophomore year, without an explanation, he transferred to rec and cut all ties with his friends from the team. Halfway through sophomore year, he quit playing football entirely. As a senior, he doesn’t even show up to the games. 

The coaches had been devastated when he quit and Andres can still remember the look in Iker’s eyes when Xavi told him he had quit football entirely. Andres was just a ball boy then, the year before he was a freshman. But he saw the look in his captain’s eyes and Andres thought he saw it as a betrayal of sorts. 

Iker had Xavi had been close, really close, and then Xavi quit and people grew to like Iker, and Xavi was just there with his group of friends, somewhere off to the side. Iker had his group and Xavi had his and they pretty much never saw eye to eye anymore. In fact, there was much speculation that it was Xavi himself that convinced Leo to snub the team and join rec. 

Andres had always been friendly with Leo, smiling at him in the hallways, but they never really talked enough for Andres to ask whether that was true or not. And besides, it was sort of his responsibility as the quietest one on the team to not involve himself in that sort of gossip. 

Andres turned his paper in to Xavi at the back of the classroom and Xavi smiled. “Thanks.” He set the paper aside and looked at Andres thoughtfully as another report started. “Good report, Andrew.” 

Andres’s heart sank. “It’s Andres,” he corrected, too quietly for Xavi to hear, before he made his way back to his seat, red in the face. 

-

Iker ripped the paper off the wall where it was posted. He cleared his throat, grinned, and shouted to the group standing behind him, “So, freshmen, just so you know, the classes are mixed up. Don’t get freaked out if you’re rooming with a senior because most of us are nice.” 

“Andres, you’re with Xavi.” Everyone pretended not to notice how Iker tripped over Xavi’s name. Pretended not to notice how they wouldn’t look at one another. Xavi picked up Andres’s bag for him and proceeded to call him Andrew all the way down the hallway. 

“Sergio, you’re with me.” Iker looked up, surprised. “And, Cris, you’re with Ricky. He’s new. He won’t be here until tomorrow.” 

Cristiano groaned. Another year with a crappy roommate. 

Across the hall, Fernando found Juan, his roommate, and they shared a quick, quiet conversation about a book they’d both read. He was relatively pleased, but he kept his eyes on Sergio.


	2. Easy Listening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sergio and Cristiano have a moment. Cristiano meets his new roommate. Fernando finds some friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is still gay and I'm still not sorry.   
> I find Cristiano's character to be absolutely fascinating, so I'm sorry if it's Cristiano-heavy.

Sergio was half on top of Cristiano and half at his side. Cristiano was quiet, just stroking his hair every so often, thankful his new roommate was a day late. He wondered if this Ricky kid would mind Sergio coming in all the time. He could always just ignore it like his last roommate. 

“I love you so much,” Sergio said quietly. He was never one to keep his mouth shut, never one to hold in what he was feeling for too long. 

“I know you do,” Cris replied with a grin, burying his face in Sergio’s neck. “Sometimes I think you’re the only one who does.” 

Sergio didn’t say anything for a moment, stayed perfectly still. And then he laced his fingers through Cristiano’s and said, “You remember the day of your father’s funeral? When you were sitting behind the church and you were crying and you didn’t want anyone to see. As soon as you heard me back there, you forced yourself to stop. I asked why and you said because you didn’t need for anyone else to see your pain. That it didn’t really matter what you were feeling as long as the rest of your family was okay. You said it was your responsibility to be strong that day. And that’s why I might have to agree with you. I may very well be the only one who loves you. But only because I know what to love you for.” 

Cristiano didn’t move for a moment, just let the words wash over him, let the words fall into place in his head and let them affect him. And then he sat up abruptly, pushing Sergio off. He sat with his back to him, rubbing his hands over his face. “Jesus, Ramos.” 

Sergio sat up slowly, mesmerized by the sight of him, watching him with a different feeling from other nights. He touched his back gently. Cristiano stiffened. “I’m sorry I was too nice to you,” he said, bending down to kiss Cris’s shoulder. “I know you get like this when I am.” 

“I don’t get any way,” he snapped irritably. “I’m perfectly normal when you’re nice.” He seemed to realize what he was doing and he cut off. Sergio rested his head on Cristiano’s shoulder and kissed it briefly. 

“Sure, Cris, whatever.” He leaned back against the pillows and smirked. 

“Shut up, Ramos,” he said, moving forward to tuck his head against Sergio’s chest. 

“Happy?” Sergio asked after a moment. Cristiano nodded. 

-

Iker likes the new kid. Ricky. He wears a cross around his neck and the book on top of his stack was The Bible. He wears a pin on his shirt about some religious summer camp and his shirt is buttoned to the very top. His blazer is stiff and tight and formal. His shoes are shiny. 

And yet he’s not stuck up or rude. He smiles easily and speaks to Iker like he’s an old friend. “I’ve never been to a boarding school before,” he says and for the first time, Iker sees it’s genuine worry on his face, not just some nerves kicking in. 

He wants to say, Hey, don’t worry, your roommate is super nice and you guys will get along. And it was true, that his roommate was really nice. Iker and Cris were best friends. But whether they would get along well or not... 

Iker bit his lip. 

“Well, let’s go see your room and I’m sure you’ll fit right in.” Iker smiled and beckoned Ricky along, down the hallway. Sergio hadn’t come back to his room yet, so Iker hoped he was already in the showers. Either that or Ricky was about to get a rude awakening. 

Iker was never one to knock, so he just strode right in. And stopped. Sergio was still asleep next to Cristiano. Cristiano, standing up at the sound of the door, completely naked and not even ashamed. He nodded to Iker. “Hey.” Casual. “This my new roomie?” He looked Ricky up and down, a new smirk growing on his face. “Nice.” 

“Cris,” Iker warned. “Wake Sergio up so I can take him to...” Iker looked around the room and shook his head. “Shower.” 

Iker glanced at Ricky who was looking at Sergio’s sleeping form and then back at Cris and then back at Sergio with some kind of disbelief, like he wasn’t sure exactly what he was getting himself into. “Don’t worry,” Iker said as cheerfully as he could manage, “This is normal.” 

“Oh,” was all Ricky could manage. He looked like he might pass out and Cristiano was enjoying it just a little too much, so Iker strode forward to smack Sergio’s back. Cris was staring at Sergio with an oddly protective look and Iker had to look away. 

“Sergio, get up, dammit. Cris’s new roommate is here. Get up and put some clothes on.” 

Sergio began to stir, looking around, his hair all over the place. He grinned when he saw Cris and started for him until he saw Iker and Ricky. He regained some composure and settled back on the bed with a sigh. “Oh. It’s morning.” 

“Yes, Sergio,” Iker said a tad impatiently. “Now get out so Ricky can move in. And shower, please, you smell.”

Sergio rolled his eyes and the two of them left. The door shut behind them and the room was quiet. Cristiano slid into his boxers and sat back down on the bed. “So, Ricky, huh?” 

The other boy nodded and sat down on his own bed. He just stared at Cristiano for a moment, his brown eyes wide with curiosity, and then he dropped his gaze and began to rifle through the cardboard box balancing precariously on his suitcase. The first thing he took out was a small wooden cross. He found a nail on the wall and hung it over his bed. Cristiano stared at it for a moment with an odd look. “Jesus freak then?” 

Ricky nodded again and Cristiano got the impression he was more than a little freaked out by what he walked in on. 

“Alright then,” he mumbled. You try and be sociable and silence is what you get. He stood up and put on his uniform. First the black pants, then the button up white shirt, and the blazer left open. He left the tie loose as well and Ricky stared. 

“You could get detention according to the manual,” he said, his voice soft and studious. “With your tie like that,” he quickly clarified. 

Cristiano just stared at him for a moment, wondering why the hell he got stuck with this one and Sergio and Iker got to be together. Every year rooming was a new horror. 

“Yeah,” he said looking down at the tie. “Yeah, I could.” He shrugged. “Well, I’m going down to breakfast. Pray I don’t get detention, okay?” 

-

“So, I hate my roommate,” Cristiano said as he sat down with a full plate. Iker was across the table from him, Sergio to his left, and Gonzalo (a sophomore he actually found enjoyable to be around) was next to Iker. 

“Yeah, I hate mine too,” Sergio said, shooting Iker a dirty look. 

“What, because I made you shower?” Sergio pouted and Iker rolled his eyes. “Come on, Cris,” Iker said with a gentle smile, “He seemed nice enough. Just give him a chance.” 

“He quoted the rule book. He hung a cross on his wall. His blazer was buttoned all the fucking way up and I hate it when people do that. Iker, that includes you.” Cris obviously wasn’t in a good mood today. 

Iker unbuttoned his blazer and continued playing the peacemaker. “Seriously, Cris, I want to make sure he fits in. Just help him out as much as you can. And maybe he’s a little weird around you because you and Sergio were--” 

Gonzalo laughed. “Wait, when he walked in... they were...?’ 

“No, Sergio was sleeping and I was just about to get up. If he can’t take a little nudity, he should be homeschooled or something.” 

Iker sighed. “Cris, be nice.” 

“Fine,” he moaned. “I’ll be nice, but it still pains me.” 

“Speaking of pains,” Gonzalo said cheerfully. “Sergio, are you going to tell coach you can’t do stretches because your teammate fucked you up the ass?” 

Cristiano snorted and nearly choked on his food meanwhile Iker struggled to swallow his orange juice without spitting it all over the table. And that was why Gonzalo was welcomed into their circle of friends with open arms. 

Sergio just looked proud. “Nah, I’m a man. I can suffer through it.” 

Iker laughed, but he was focused on something just over Cris’s shoulder. 

“What?” he craned his neck to see what Iker was so intent on seeing. 

Ricky was taking the seat next to Fernando Torres, smiling. Fernando began chatting happily and even took out one of his textbooks, proceeding to show Ricky something in it. They watched as Ricky laughed and the two compared schedules. 

“You’re got to be fucking kidding me. Fernando hates me for no reason and now my awful roommate is-- I hate this.” He tugged at a button on his blazer. 

“He does hate you,” Sergio agreed. “But I wouldn’t agree it’s for no reason. I’m sure you did something.” 

Iker was about to say how he was just pleased Ricky was making friends when Xabi turned up and asked how everyone’s first night in the dorms were, which of course prompted a whole new wave of conversation involving Sergio and Cristiano and more than Iker ever wanted to know about their sex life. 

-

Honors Pre-calc had to be Leo’s favorite subject. Not only was Mr. Cruyff the coolest teacher he had ever been taught by, but he was damn good at it. The math was enjoyable. It was simple. Easy for him. Cruyff liked him. But what Leo really enjoyed most about the class was Mr. Cruyff’s incessant torturing of Cristiano Ronaldo. 

Today it was because Cristiano circled his answered instead of putting a box around them. “What the hell does it matter how I point them out as long as the answer is right? It’s perfectly easy to see and it’s not my fault...” His voice dropped so Cruyff wouldn’t hear. “...some people need glasses in their old age.” 

Unfortunately for Cristiano, Cruyff had better hearing than should be humanly possible. With anyone else, the first impulse would be to send the student to the dean’s office for their absolute lack of respect. But everyone knew Mourinho had his favorites and Cristiano was right there at the top of the list. 

So, much to Leo’s pleasure, Mr. Cruyff settled on shouting at Cristiano for long periods of time. Leo stared at Cristiano for a moment, too long again, and this time when the other boy looked up, Leo didn’t look away. Cris didn’t give him a disarming smile this time. He just stared back coldly. 

“Oh stop your staring contest,” Fernando finally burst out. “Just get a room already.” 

Leo colored. It wasn’t normal for Fernando to speak out like that. It was common knowledge, to the few groups who knew of his existence, that he hated Cristiano. Hated him with every fiber of his being. If Cris was in the same building as him, you could practically feel Fernando’s blood boil. 

Fernando shared Leo’s dislike for the popular crowd, that much he could tell. But he didn’t seem to want to get himself on Leo’s side either. 

Leo found the anger building in him and he finally turned around, stared straight at Cristiano and said, “You know, we would get a room, but Cris’s is probably occupied considering the number of people he’s slept with. Full schedule, this one.” 

Cristiano laughed arrogantly, like he didn’t care one bit, but Leo thought he saw something in his expression. Maybe something that proved differently. 

Meanwhile, Cruyff was trying to get the class under control. “Alright, everyone shut up!” Leo turned back around slowly, feeling victorious. “I’ll have no fighting in my class, you hear? Cris, how many times do I have to tell you to stop provoking people? Fernando, mind your tongue, boy.” Not a word about Leo himself and he smiled smugly. 

He opened his notebook and started the first problem on the board. Yeah. This was definitely his favorite class. 

-

The next day is a Wednesday and Cristiano woke up to the sound of someone knocking on the door. He opened his eyes a crack, expecting to see Sergio or Iker coming to wake him up. Instead, Ricky was moving around the room and he opened the door. Fernando was waiting there. Cristiano promptly shut his eyes before Fernando could see him awake. Pretended to sleep. Would have been better if he were actually sleeping. 

“I’m sorry you got stuck with him,” Fernando said, hardly even keeping his voice down. 

There was a long pause and Ricky seemed to shrug. “Yeah, but...” Another pause. “Yeah.” 

Cristiano continued to pretend he was sleeping until he heard the door close. When he opened his eyes, the room was empty again and he was left with an uncomfortable feeling. There were people that genuinely didn’t want to be around him. They honestly hated everything about his personality. 

He wasn’t trying to be arrogant when he said he wasn’t used to that, but... well, he really, really wasn’t used to that. He flopped back on his bed and told himself he didn’t care. He missed breakfast, was late to class, and stared at Fernando thoughtfully all during pre-calc. 

-

“I swear nothing can go right,” Cesc told Gerard as he walked him to practice after school. “Seriously, Iker hasn’t even looked at me all week and...” He trailed off when he saw Gerard wasn’t listening, just staring at the ground. “It sucks,” he finished lamely. 

“Yeah, I wonder what it would be like for the person you’re in love with to ignore you.” Gerard gave a short laugh and it sounded off to Cesc’s ears, but he convinced himself he was seeing a problem when there was nothing to see. “Listen, I have to get to track. We start in five minutes, but have a good practice.” He smiled quickly and headed in the opposite direction. 

Cesc dragged his feet the rest of the way to practice and changed quickly. He passed a morose looking Cristiano, dressing slowly. Vaguely wondered what was up. Was slightly frightened of actually asking. 

Xabi was already dressed for practice, setting everything next to his locker neatly. There was a picture of him, Steven Gerrard, and Iker in his locker. He smiled at it every day and Cesc got a weird feeling. He just looked at like... well, almost how Cesc knew he looked at Iker. 

Could Xabi be in love with Iker? 

Cesc bit down on his lip until he drew blood. Not my problem, he told himself. Really not my problem. But his limbs felt sluggish and when Sergio tackled him, he stayed on the ground a moment longer than he really should have. 

“You okay, Cesc?” Iker called from goal. Cesc nodded and struggled to his feet, opened his mouth to formulate a response, but Iker had already turned to Sergio to reprimand him. “Be a little more careful, okay?” Sergio nodded and slapped Cesc on the arm. 

After practice, Cesc was the last one off the pitch and Iker was waiting for him just outside the locker room. His heart sped up and he checked behind him to make sure it was him Iker was waving to. 

Iker laughed at his antics and the look of surprise on his face when he realized they were the only two out there. “Hey, Cesc.” 

“Hey, Iker.” 

Iker held up one of his sweatshirts. “Gerard said you left this with him by accident and he asked me to give it to you.” 

“Oh, thanks.” He blushed and stuffed the sweatshirt into his bag hurriedly. 

“No problem, Cesc. How’s sophomore year treating you?” Iker stuck his hands in his pockets and Cesc thought that was pretty much the most perfect thing ever. Iker sighed and Cesc thought that was the most perfect thing too. Iker just stood there and Cesc thought the same. 

“It’s okay. The classes are tougher than I expected. I almost stuck my hand in acid in Chem, but other than that, not so bad.” 

Iker laughed and brushed his shoulder by accident. Didn’t apologize. Just smiled and looked at the place where their arms touched. “Well you be careful in Chem because we can’t have our talented young sophomore getting himself injured.” 

“I can play with a hand injury,” Cesc said, not understanding that Iker was only teasing. “I could play with--” 

Iker laughed and put his arm around Cesc’s shoulder. “I know you could, Fabregas. I was only teasing. I like to tease you. It’s too much fun.” 

The funny thing was that Iker didn’t even know. 

-

It was hours later that Ricky decided to show up. Cristiano was sitting up in bed, trying to work out a difficult math problem when the door opened and Ricky and Fernando filed in. Wonderful. 

“Hey, freckles,” he said cheerfully. “How are you today?” 

Fernando exchanged a look with Ricky before just nodding in Cris’s direction. 

“What, nothing to say today?” He was growing increasingly frustrated and increasingly hostile. 

“Not at the moment, no.” Fernando set his backpack down on Ricky’s bed and unpacked two books. Library books. Cristiano craned his neck to see the title, but it was too far away. “But maybe later.” He zipped his backpack back up and nodded to Ricky. “See you later.” 

“Why doesn’t he like me?” Cristiano asked when Fernando was gone. Ricky just shrugged. “Is it something I did?” Ricky shrugged again. A long pause and then, “Why don’t you like me?” 

Ricky looked up, eyes wide and serious. “I never said I didn’t like you.” 

“Well you act like it.” 

Ricky hesitated, looked up apologetically. “Maybe people would be more inclined to tell you what they don’t like about you if they actually thought you cared.” 

Cris opened his math notebook again. “Well. I guess I’ll never know then.” 

Ricky was quiet for a long time and Cristiano finally managed to work out the problem, thankful he didn’t have to walk all the way over to Xabi’s room. God only knows who he could be rooming with. 

When he looked up again, Ricky was sitting with his hands folded in his lap and a rosary in his hands. “What the hell are you doing?” 

Ricky opened his eyes and Cristiano could see he was trying not to glare. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean, what is this action in which you are participating? How much more clear can I get? What the hell are you doing? That’s pretty straightforward,” he snapped. 

“I’m praying,” Ricky said flatly, gesturing to the rosary. 

“Like to God.” It wasn’t a question. 

“Yes, Cris. Don’t you ever pray?” 

I used to, Cristiano thinks. I used to pray when I had faith he would make my dad better. “Football’s my prayer,” he said instead. Ricky accepted it and went back to his own prayers. Cristiano went back to his math and didn’t look up again.


	3. All Shook Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fight breaks out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting really attached to these characters.

It all started with a comment about Cristiano. Fernando was in one of his foul moods where he spoke without thinking and Sergio did something Sergio Ramos-y. 

If it hadn’t been building on three years of Fernando hating Cristiano (and simultaneously battling his feelings for Sergio), it might not have ended with Sergio punching him in the face. But as it happens, it had been three years. 

And so it ended with four suspensions, three black eyes, one broken jaw, and countless nasty bruises amongst the four of them. 

And it all had to start with that one comment. 

“Hey, blondie, enjoying the day off? You look snazzy today.” The library was supposed to be quiet. Fernando liked the library quiet. He did not like to be interrupted during his studying time. He did not like people talking in the library. He most certainly did not like being referred to as “blondie.” 

But mostly he just really, really didn’t like Cristiano Ronaldo. 

He scowled. “Leave me alone, Cris.” 

Fernando was a little confused as to why they were in the library anyway. It’s not like Sergio even knew what a book was. On one hand, he thought Sergio was incredibly stupid. And on the other he thought he was-- stupidly-- beautiful. Maybe a little funny. But still so horribly shallow Fernando would never be able to admit his little crush to anyone. 

“Not doing anything, freckles.” Cris perused the shelf behind Leo and Fernando’s table thoughtfully, humming under his breath. Sergio was struggling not to smile next to him and Iker rolled his eyes, standing a little behind the two as if to distance himself from their immaturity. 

Leo and Fernando exchanged an annoyed look before going back to their schoolwork. Ricky just shrugged. Leo tried not to smile, tried not to think about how he finally had a friend who hated the popular people as much as he did. Over the past few days they had begun to hang out more and more. The two of them and Ricky became their own little tight knit community within a span of three days and it felt like they’d been friends forever. 

Sure, Ricky had his prayers and his Bible and his Bible study classes he always talked about missing and Fernando followed football even more obsessively than Leo himself... and Fernando liked his room incredibly neat and always complained about his roommate. Ricky hardly said a thing about Cris being his roommate, and Leo was hellbent on staying out of his roommate’s way and tried to be out of his room as much as possible. 

Fernando and Leo could be bitter at times, but Ricky never. He was sweet and smiled a lot and kept his judgements to himself. Fernando and Leo often joked about how it was a good thing Cristiano got Ricky as a roommate instead of either of them because Ricky was the most patient person they’d ever met. 

They felt their differences, but they didn’t feel them so intensely that they couldn’t be friends. Leo always thought that was the basis of a friendship. You know you’re different, but you’re fine with it anyway. A friend is someone who loves you even though you suck at everything. 

Leo smiled. 

Cristiano continued to hum under his breath and Sergio poked a book, bending over to read the spine. “You don’t want that one,” Cristiano muttered, pulling his shirt the other way. He searched the shelves again, his incessant humming starting to get on Leo’s nerves. 

Just when he was about to turn around and tell him to knock it off, Cristiano turned back to them and said, “So, Fernando, I’ve always wondered... do you dye your hair or is that gorgeous color natural?” 

“Don’t you have anything better to do with your time?” Leo snapped. “Like, I don’t know, screwing Sergio?” 

Iker winced in the background, but Sergio looked like he didn’t really care. Cristiano just smiled and played with the spine of one of the books on the shelf. It was fraying at the edge and he just kept pulling and pulling like the book’s binding wasn’t the only thing breaking. 

“That’s so nice of you,” he said with more than a hint of condescension. “Sticking up for your friend and all.” 

“That’s because he actually knows how to treat his friends,” Fernando said coldly. “He cares about them, see? He doesn’t just fuck them and expect them to worship at his feet. Cris, that’s always been my question for you: Why are you such a self-involved dick? And how the hell do you still have people that talk to you?” 

Iker stayed quiet and just shut his eyes for a moment like he was waiting for the impact, like, what did you do now Fernando. 

Sergio didn’t hesitate for a second. He stood up, walked over to where Fernando was sitting with his face impassive, his eyes burning, and swung his fist. It connected with Fernando’s face with a sickening crunch. 

For a moment the room was completely still and Fernando’s nose was just starting to bleed, but he was struggling to stand upright. He started forward for Sergio, and Leo was just going to let him go before he remembered Sergio was on the football team and could probably take Fernando and three of his clones. It was too late for him to reach Fernando now, but he stood up and started forward, desperate to reach his friend before a full-blown fight started. And in the library too. 

But suddenly Cristiano was standing between the two of them, pushing them apart and trying to calm Sergio down. “Leo, grab him,” he shouted, trying to keep Sergio from taking his head off. His eyes were urgent, struggling to contain Sergio and begging Leo to help. “Leo, come on.” 

Leo stood there indecisively for a moment. Cristiano’s arms were occupied at the moment and if Fernando could get the two of them, maybe-- 

He shook his head and grabbed hold of Fernando. He calmed a little, determined not to hurt Leo, but he still fought to get free. Iker was helping with Sergio, and Ricky, meanwhile, was still sitting at the table, watching the whole thing play out like it was a movie. His jaw had dropped and his eyes were halfway between terrified and excited. Leo had a feeling they mirrored his own. 

“Sergio, fucking stop.” Cristiano looked at him and he stopped struggling. Cris waited a moment, knowing Sergio too well, and then slowly backed away. “Just leave it, okay?” 

There was a calm moment and Leo released Fernando, tried to meet his gaze, but he was staring at Sergio like-- 

And just when Leo realized what that look meant, it was too late to reach out and stop him. Fernando strode forward decisively and Leo stepped back, a little surprised at what a punch it turned out to be. 

And then all hell broke loose. Ricky ran to get someone from the hallway and Iker yelled for everyone to break it up, but no one was listening. Sergio’s nose was bloody and Iker was trying to stand between them to break it up. 

Leo wasn’t really sure what came over him, but Cristiano was standing there looking all angry and handsome and Leo just really, really hated him in that moment. As soon as he neared him, Leo pushed him hard in the chest and Cristiano took a surprised step back. There was this look in his eyes like he honestly didn’t expect it, like maybe he was coming over for another reason, but it was too late to care. 

Cristiano pushed him back, surprisingly gentle, and it pissed him off that Cris pitied him, that he thought he was so much better. He swung his fist and there was a satisfying crunch upon impact. 

“What the hell, Cris?” Iker yelled, still trying to get between Fernando and Sergio who, together, were fairly easily getting around him, clawing and smacking at each other’s faces, breathing heavily, and shouting nonsense. 

But Cristiano wasn’t listening anymore and Iker actually feared for Leo who looked more like a toddler than a high school student. His punch left Leo bent over, his mind reeling. His jaw felt shattered, like he could pull at his face and the pieces would come off. 

His lip was split and dripping blood. He stood up straight and the two of them glared at one another. Leo would have preferred for Cristiano to rush at him again and hit him, make something else shatter, just so long as he wasn’t standing there and pitying him. 

“Fuck you,” Leo said thickly through the blood. 

There was a flicker of a smile on Cris’s lips and the only trace he was in the fight at all was a small shadow of a bruise forming on his jaw. His shirt was a little torn in places, but more from Sergio trying to get away than anything Leo himself did. Cristiano’s tie was crooked too, but other than that, his appearance was as infuriatingly perfect as usual. 

“Do you maybe want to help me?” Iker yelled. He looked pissed. Leo decided he would have helped Iker if it hadn’t been so enjoyable to see him uncomfortable. 

Cristiano grinned again, just a flicker like a dying bulb, and rushed forward to help. He held Sergio back and Iker and Leo held Fernando’s arms behind his back. 

Everyone was breathing heavily. Fernando and Sergio still looked like they were out for blood. Cristiano was back to looking amused. And Leo... Leo couldn’t decide how he felt. His jaw hurt. It really fucking hurt. He leaned against the table and licked at the blood on his lips, suddenly becoming aware of their audience. 

The library had been relatively deserted. It was a day off school in the middle of the week, a teacher work day, so most students had used their passes to escape campus, but the few in the library were standing in little clumps around the fighting boys. Some smiling. Some looking disgusted. A few were just taking out their headphones, completely confused. 

The five boys looked at one another and there was an unspoken agreement not to tell anyone what had happened. And that they would finish this later. 

And then Ricky walked in with Mr. Cruyff. 

He rubbed his hands together and Cristiano was thoroughly nauseated. “Well, well, well... what do we have here?” 

-

“There’s no way you can’t suspend them, Jose. They were fighting. Poor Leo here has a broken jaw and Fernando’s nose could have been broken. They have black eyes and look at the bruise on Fernando’s jaw. There must be some punishment.” 

Cristiano looked up lazily at Cruyff pacing the length of Mourinho’s office with a gentle smile. He just knew something bad was going to happen. Although he got that feeling every time Cruyff was in the room. 

He checked behind him for the window to find Iker, knew he would be pacing outside the office, holding his head in his hands and rubbing at the nape of his neck like he always did when he was stressed. Of course he wouldn’t get called in. Iker was just trying to stop the fighting. Of course Iker was given the benefit of the doubt. 

People treated him like he was a fucking saint, Cristiano thought bitterly. 

Mourinho folded his hands on his desk. “And what of Cristiano and Sergio’s injuries? If anyone should be punished, it should be all of them. We wouldn’t want to show any favoritism, now, would we? So, I think.... suspensions.” 

“What?” Sergio jolted upright in his chair, not even bothering to hold the ice pack to his face anymore. “Suspension? No, no please, you--” Sergio’s protest were cut off by a single look from Mourinho. 

“Don’t think for a second, Sergio, that you can tell me what I can and cannot do. Suspensions,” he repeated, staring stonily back at Sergio’s glare. “That means you’ll miss the game, yes. A three day suspension should be enough. That’s one game, boys. You’ll be fine--” 

“But--” 

“You’re still expected to attend practices after school and any club meetings for these mornings. You will be up at the same time every morning. At 8:00 sharp, you will be subject to uniform checks for these three mornings. You will have detention this week, every day as well as the weekend and the following Monday. You will pick up trash around campus and if there is another fight, you will be in to see me again and there will be consequences. For all of you.” 

His harsh gaze lingered on Leo.   
-

It was Iker, Cris, and Sergio in Iker and Sergio’s room. The room was quiet and it wasn’t Iker their friend looking down at them, but Iker their captain. The one who busted their asses during games and proved exactly why he was someone to be listened to. 

“I cannot fucking believe you. We have our season opener and you’re fucking suspended. Do you understand what this means? We’re out our top goal scorer and starting center back. Do you ever even think about your actions? Do you understand how serious this is? Not just for the team although that’s all I can think about right now. This goes on your permanent record. Do you know what your teachers are going to think? The other students? You’re reckless and rash and you never think about a fucking thing you do and how it might affect others.” 

Cristiano sat there quietly. He looked a little disgruntled, but not too bothered. Iker’s lectures affected everyone. This was huge for him. 

“And how about you?” Sergio snapped after a moment of trying to keep it all inside. “You could have done something. You could have told them to stop before they said anything else. They were insulting our best friend and you’re so caught up with being nice to everyone that you seem to have forgotten that.” 

“You didn’t have to attack him, Sergio!” Iker was furious and a furious Iker was something to be wary of as he hardly ever let his temper flare up (not including football, of course, because he was about as volatile as Sergio if his defenders weren’t listening). 

“What could I have done? Talked it out? With Leo and Fernando? Are you kidding me? They hate him. They act like they’re better than him. He doesn’t deserve that. He doesn’t deserve... You know what, Iker? Maybe you should decide whose side you’re on.” 

“There don’t have to be sides.” Iker’s fists were clenched at his sides, his cheeks starting to turn pink. Cristiano always thought it was fun to rile him up. Today was different. 

Sergio shook his head a little sadly. “You know, all you had to do was be by our side because we would have done it for you in a heartbeat.” 

“I am by your side,” Iker said, feeling a stab of guilt, “You know I’m always here for you, but I have a responsibility--” 

“You always have a responsibility to someone, Iker. This isn’t about responsibility. This is about loyalty. Where the hell is yours?” Sergio’s eyes were burning again, and Cristiano had to force himself not to grab his hand and tell him to calm down. 

Something about the loyalty part got under Iker’s skin. No one was going to tell him he wasn’t loyal enough just because he wasn’t prepared to punch someone’s face in. 

“I’m trying to be diplomatic here, Sergio. It’s not my fault you’re so combative--” 

“I was defending him.” 

Cristiano’s face was drawn and tense and he was uncharacteristically quiet. My fault, he thought. All my fault. Mea maxima culpa, he thought with a wry grin, rather impressed with his memory even at a time like this. 

“You were defending the fact that he loves you.” Cristiano looked up to see Iker’s eyes burning and Sergio looking like he was about to start attacking him too, but he just stood there for a moment, his mouth slightly open, shocked. And then he snapped it shut and turned around, slamming the door behind him. 

Defending the fact that he loves you. Interesting. Cristiano recalled the look of rage on Sergio’s face when Leo or Fernando (one of those two douchewads who always looked at him like he was dirt) suggested Cristiano didn’t care. Expected him to worship. 

And Cristiano wondered if maybe there was something Sergio wasn’t telling him. About them. About what they had going on. 

“Well are you mad at me too?” Iker looked exhausted. 

Cristiano shook his head, looked down at his hands before speaking. “You’re my captain and my friend. I understand you well enough to know what is you and what is completely out of character.” 

“Sergio knows me well enough too. Or at least I thought he would.” There was a little pain in Cristiano’s chest as he thought about how upset it made Iker to be fighting with Sergio. He wondered if either of them would care in the slightest if they were fighting with him. 

Cristiano shrugged. “He cares too much.” 

-

“You okay?” 

Leo was nursing his jaw, wincing every time the ice touched it. “Yeah, it just... feels weird to talk. And now I have to wear that face mask thing.” He could just picture Cristiano’s pleased expression when he saw him walk in with the hideous thing that was supposed to hold it in place. What a weird thought. It was supposed to hold his face in place. What he once thought was permanent was so easily shattered. 

“Well you did break your jaw.” Fernando was sitting on Leo’s bed, dried blood still caked under his nose. 

“I didn’t. Cristiano did.” 

Fernando tossed a wet washcloth from the floor to Leo. He put his hands in his lap. “Guess it’s sort of my fault you got your face bashed up.” 

“Sergio hit you first,” was all he said, wiping the rest of the blood away. He stood up to put the dirty washcloth away, thinking that it was an awful feeling to have to wear the black mask and it was an awful feeling to be embarrassed about it. But it was a sort of nice feeling to know it’s because he defended his friend. Maybe he would learn to wear it as a badge of honor. 

“And I got into a fight standing up for a friend,” he finally added, sitting back down on his roommate’s bed. “That’s not really so bad, is it?” 

“You’re suspended,” Fernando pointed out. “And you have to miss a game for rec.” Fernando, without realizing it, had memorized the football schedule. Friday nights were games for Iker’s team and Saturday, when the campus was less busy, was when rec played. The games were significantly less popular to go to and were sometimes of little quality. Although, Fernando had been to most games of both teams and Leo... Leo was definitely making a difference. He was really something. 

“Which sucks, yeah,” he agreed with a nod. “But I did get to hit Cris and that was pretty satisfying.” 

Fernando snickered. “You know, I used to think you were so quiet and nice.” 

“I am nice,” Leo protested with a grin, lip aching as it split open all over again. The blood sort of ruined the whole trying to be innocent thing. 

They just smiled at one another for a moment and Leo thought it was pretty nice to have a friend like Fernando. He was about to say something along those lines, although not quite so stupid sounding, when the door banged open. 

David Villa strode in with a towel hanging loosely from his hips. Two phones were in his hands and a loose wire tucked between the towel and his still-wet body. Leo tried not to stare, but there was something about David that-- fuck, not his body, that’s not what he meant. There was just something about him that demanded attention. 

He used to play football and that’s how people grew to get to know him. And then his injury happened. He became friends with Iker and all them, but he was never quite so... shiny. He wasn’t on the fringe like Xavi, but he stopped hanging out with the football team so much and now they were all just casual friends. 

He did them favors, said hello to them in the hallways, went to their parties, called them up occasionally on the weekends, but David Villa was David Villa and he was the spider of the school. If you needed a favor, you went to him. He accepted money, favors, and certain ah, other sorts of favors. The kind Leo had only heard people talk about in whispers. 

If Leo was being honest, David scared him. Although he was rather useful. And he did like to hear what people came to ask him for. Daniel Agger came in just the other day to ask to get out of the school for a few hours after curfew and in five minutes, David had devised a plan, found a way out, and made up ten excuses he could use if he were caught. Under no circumstance were you to tell the authorities (the authorities being teachers) about what David ran. He was the black market and you were next in line for the gallows if you ever breathed a word. 

So Leo was scared of his roommate. So what. Lots of people were scared of their roommates. And lots of people stared at their roommates. It wasn’t weird. 

“What are you two girls doing in my room?” He crossed over to his computer and began to connect first one phone and then, reaching for a different cord, the other. Leo craned his neck to see what he was doing as he bent down to type, but David’s back was covering it. 

“I’m your roommate,” Leo reminded him for the millionth time that week. Fernando smiled. 

“Right, right. Little Leo with his fancy feet,” he muttered sarcastically. 

“They’re not so fancy,” Leo mumbled, looking down. He was definitely not blushing. 

“I’ve seen you play, kid. Pretty fucking fancy.” He powered off one of the phones and tossed it to Fernando. “Give this back to Xavi, would you?” Fernando stood up awkwardly, and David grinned. Fernando shrugged and turned to leave. 

“See you later, Leo.” 

Leo waved and the door shut behind his friend. He thought about what he was going to say earlier, about how happy he was they became friends. He looked quickly back at David, almost ashamed to have such nice thoughts around someone that was completely the opposite, someone who embodied lying and cheating rather than an honest, genuine friendship. 

“Did you get hit in the face with a shovel or something?” 

“No.” 

“A train then.” 

“No.” 

“Did someone throw a desk at you?” 

“No.” 

He shrugged. “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine.” He returned to his computer and pulled up attendance. 

“Got into a fight,” Leo finally mumbled, keeping his eyes focused on the work. 

“Cool.” 

“I’m suspended.” 

“Even cooler.” 

“I have to miss a game.” 

David shrugged. “Just rec.” 

Leo was slightly gratified David knew he played for rec. Maybe once he reminded David he was his roommate every day, everything sort of fell into place and he remembered all he knew about Leo. 

Or maybe he knew nothing and he just assumed Leo played for rec because he couldn’t possibly be good enough for anything else. 

“Yeah, but it matters.” 

David made a skeptical sound at the back of his throat. “Rec loses all the time. If they lose a game without you, it’s not big deal. Don’t blame yourself.” 

“That’s not what I meant, but--” He cut off, unaccustomed to actually talking to David. 

“Then what did you mean?” He finally looked up from his work and his eyes were unguarded in a way Leo hadn’t seen before. 

“That... I don’t want to miss a game. I don’t want to not be scoring. I don’t want people to look down on my team. We work just as hard as the other team, but still they get all the praise, all the good players and... all the confidence in the world. They get the funding and the field trips and absolutely everything at this school is about them.” 

David looked at him carefully. “You turned them down, miracle boy.” His voice was always a little biting when he spoke and Leo felt it more than usual just then. 

“I know.” 

“And no one really knows why.” 

Leo nodded, but didn’t speak. 

David stared at him for a long time, thoughtfully and deeply like he was reading him, said, “Funny that you spend so much time hating them when you could just as easily be them.” 

“I could never be them.” 

His voice sounded young and scandalized to David’s ears and he held back a smile. “Whatever you say, Leo.” Leo stayed quiet but David could see he was more than a little upset. 

He sat on the bed examining the black mask he would have to wear and neither of them spoke for a long time. 

Finally David said, “So, field trips, huh?” 

“Wha-- Oh... Oh, yeah. They always go.” He waved his hand impatiently. “It’s not important.” 

David shrugged and let it go. “I heard there’s a newbie on your rec team.” 

“Yeah, freshman. He’s pretty good. Quiet. Didn’t even try out for the other team. He just came straight to rec.” 

“Interesting.” David pulled the other phone out of his computer and stood up. “Well, it was nice chatting. Don’t get into anymore fights while I’m gone. Oh, yeah, you mind covering for me tonight? If anyone pokes their head in, I’m in the shower, yeah?” Leo nodded. “Lucky you, getting the day off tomorrow.” 

“It’s not a day off. It’s a suspensi--” But David was already out the door.


	4. Born Under a Bad Sign

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iker and Sergio are still fighting. Iker has secrets. Sergio and Fernando have a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem is sonnet xvii by pablo neruda. Read it. Read it twice. Read it a thousand times and cry.   
> The things Sergio is thinking about his German teacher are what I think about Sergio.

Iker was staring down at his homework, trying to focus, but the silence of the library was swallowing him. He had been sitting alone for the better half of the hour until Gonzalo showed up and set his stuff down. Iker hadn’t really been focusing much before that anyway-- he was too distracted by the seemingly endless silence between him and Sergio, and the strange notion of neutrality Cristiano seemed hellbent on preserving. 

 

He’d been sneaking away most nights, unbeknownst to Sergio, but Iker did most things without Sergio realizing anyway. He’d been hiding things-- one thing in particular-- since summer, and Sergio hadn’t even noticed. It was like every problem but his own was invisible. Even Cristiano noticed before Sergio, but he stayed silent. He always did. It was normally something Iker liked about him, but now he just-- he wanted to make them understand. He wanted to talk to his best friends about it because he was struggling to understand the whole thing himself. 

 

Iker felt his shoulders slump and he felt like skipping dinner and going back to bed. Dinners weren’t the same without Sergio and Cristiano. He sat with Xabi mostly, at the end of the long table they normally all occupied together, jammed in at the center, elbows knocking and feet kicking under the table. Xabi was even more reserved than normal and they kept up polite conversation, but Iker could tell Xabi wanted to ask him about the fight with Sergio. 

 

“Iker,” Gonzalo said thoughtfully, interrupting the peaceful silence of the library, “Are you single?” 

 

Iker wrinkled his nose and scrubbed at his paper with his eraser instead of answering. Gonzalo tapped his pencil against his notebook impatiently, and the other boy continued to ignore him. 

 

Iker prided himself on self-control, liked to think there was a lot about him that people didn’t know, but he didn’t like to shut himself away from the world. He stayed connected with his friends, and they knew when he was seeing someone and when he wasn’t-- when he was happy with that arrangement and when he wasn’t. 

 

Just. Not always. 

 

He flipped through the pages of his history textbook, letting his eyes slide over nothing, searching in vain for an answer he didn’t even care about finding. Gonzalo shoved his arm off the page and whined at the back of his throat. “Come on. I’m bored. Tell me.” 

 

“Do your work and shut up,” Iker replied crankily. 

 

Gonzalo stared at him for a moment, his eyes slowly growing wider and wider as the realization dawned on him. When he spoke, his eyes were shining, burning at the center with the kind of desire he only ever had for gossip: “Holy shit. You’re either dating someone you actually really like or you just broke up with someone you really like.” 

 

He perched on the edge of his seat and stuck his face between Iker’s and his book, laying himself out on the table until Iker sat up with a loud sigh, muttering, “Get the fuck away from me.” 

 

“You really like someone.” He sat back in his chair, letting the disbelief wash over him. “Iker Casillas, you sly bastard.” 

 

“Go. Away.” He gritted his teeth. 

 

Gonzalo’s grin just widened and he began to swiftly jam his stuff back in his backpack with jerky motions. “I know you’re not going to tell me who it is because, like, you’ve kept it a secret for this long, so like, you obviously don’t want to tell anyone. So, you know what I’m going to do?” He paused, grinned a grin he liked to think was both endearing and shit-eating. “Find out exactly who this mystery person is.” 

 

And he sort of enjoyed the look of pure terror in Iker’s eyes. 

 

+ 

 

Iker and Sergio hadn’t spoken for a week. Sergio had taken to hanging out with Cristiano and his friends from track and lacrosse. 

 

Cristiano nodded at him, gave him a pat on the shoulder like, _this will all be alright in a few days_ , and Iker shrugged. He took his normal place, didn’t even look at Sergio as he passed. 

 

Sergio didn’t want to admit it hurt, but when Cristiano asked if he was okay later during breakfast, he shrugged, said, “I have a math test,” but Cristiano knew the look of despair wasn’t only because he hadn’t memorized the formulas. 

 

Although, shit, he really should have done that. 

 

He left breakfast early to review for math, dropped his flashcards on the way out just as Fernando was walking by. There was a bruise on Fernando’s lower jaw, purple and yellow, and Sergio was a little bit proud. He bent to retrieve his flashcards to hide his grin just as Fernando dropped to his knees to help. 

 

Sergio looked up surprised, watched as Fernando bit his lip and ignored Sergio’s wondering gaze. He looked down after a moment. Their hands brushed, and Sergio coughed uncomfortably. “Why are you helping me?” 

 

“You dropped something.” The other boy’s voice was slow and tired like he didn’t have the energy to hate Sergio at the moment. “It’s the decent thing to do. I’m not doing you any favors, just being--” 

 

“A decent person?” 

 

“Yeah,” Fernando said with a short laugh under his breath like there was something he found funny that Sergio didn’t. 

 

“Okay then.” 

 

“Okay then,” Fernando echoed, mimicking Sergio’s voice, but it didn’t feel cruel and the awkward laughter between them wasn’t forced. Sergio thought he would have liked Fernando’s laugh a lot if he wasn’t such a pretentious dickwad with a colossal stick up his ass. 

 

Sergio quickly straightened up, grabbed the flashcards from Fernando, and bound them together with the rubber band. He nodded at the other boy, shrugging a little as if he was torn between showing he was grateful and pretending it wasn’t a big deal. 

 

Fernando just stared and his mouth was parted slightly, and Sergio stared back for a long time without knowing why. He thought he might like the shyness in Fernando’s smile if things had been different. But things weren’t different, so he told himself that when he walked away, he’d bump into Fernando’s shoulder, hard, daring him to start another fight. 

 

Suddenly, Fernando’s expression changed and he looked quickly down at the flashcards, and-- he wasn’t sure why he did it really-- said, “If you need help with any of that, I’m a tutor in the library every Friday after school.” 

 

The other boy just stared back a little resentfully. “Well,” he replied stiffly “My test is today, so.” 

 

Fernando’s expression darkened. “I just meant if you needed it,” he said curtly, his voice biting. “I wasn’t doing you any favors. I get paid for the help. It’s not like I’m dying to spend more time with you.” 

 

“Bet you are,” Sergio shot back without a thought, and he moved to walk away. He did end up bumping Fernando’s shoulder, but Fernando had let him, just let his shoulder swing back into position with a tired, angry (but mostly just frustrated) look weighing down his features. 

 

He continued on to his place between Leo and Ricky. He set his bag down with a thump and rested his head on his shoulders. Leo looked distracted; he was staring at something across the room. Ricky was still blessing his meal. Fernando shut his eyes. 

 

“You okay, Nando?” 

 

“I hate Sergio Ramos.” 

 

Fernando opened his eyes to see Leo biting into a piece of french toast. “Yeah, so do most people.” 

 

“I was trying to be nice to him-- I don’t even-- I don’t even know why--” He cut off and his expression darkened again. His eyes narrowed and he felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him. 

 

“I don’t know why either.” There was a smear of syrup on Leo’s lower lip. “Just ignore him. Next time he drops flashcards, just give them a little kick in every direction and laugh as he scrambles to pick them up.” 

 

Fernando grinned; Ricky made a tutting noise under his breath. “Just because they do something wrong, doesn’t mean we have to do the same. I mean, we have morals, don’t we? We have to do the right thing. We have to--” 

 

“If you say ‘stay true to ourselves,’ I might kill you.” Fernando was having none of his shit. 

 

Leo grinned again. “Ricky, you’re too nice for your own good. I don’t even know how you stay sane with the roommate you have.” 

 

“He’s not so bad,” Ricky said, and he looked down at his plate. His thin fingers played with a strip of toast, and he refused to meet either of their gazes. “He’s really not as bad as you think.” 

 

“You’re defending him?” Leo’s voice was incredulous. 

 

Fernando opted to stay quiet. 

 

Ricky blushed. “I defend everyone. It’s what I do.” 

 

“Right.” But Leo’s voice was tense, and when he left for class, he left without looking at either of them. 

 

+ 

 

Cesc was in English class when he finally came across the perfect way to talk to Iker, though he didn’t realize it. 

 

He was distracted and bored and Mr. Beckham was young and good-looking, but even with his voice-- Cesc stared around the room, tapped his fingers on the desk. The clock’s ticking was loud and too slow, and he just _needed_ the end of class. 

 

“Cesc?” 

 

He snapped his attention back to the front of the room with a smile. “Yes?” 

 

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” 

 

“Uh, _sir_?” Mr. Beckham never seemed like a sir to Cesc, but 107% mentally occupied and it said in the handbook the teachers were ma’am or sir, right? Whatever, Cesc never read it anyway. No one did. Waste of paper. 

 

Mr. Beckham laughed into his palm. “No, Cesc, the assignment. I assigned your row a sonnet to talk about... you were supposed to write 500 words on...” He trailed off and shook his head affectionately at the confused, wide-eyed student staring back at him blankly. “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?” 

 

There was a pause and then, unabashedly, “No, sorry. No clue.” 

 

Mr. Beckham scrubbed at his eyes with his palm. “Alright, that’s okay. Just get it to me by tomorrow and, do us a favor and read the sonnet?” 

 

Cesc cleared his throat uncomfortably, wiped his hands on his pants, and opened his book to what he hoped he’d marked as the right page. 

 

“I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, 

Or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. 

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, 

in secret, between the shadow and the soul” 

 

Cesc paused to look up. He could stop now, right? 

 

Mr. Beckham stared down at the last two lines, rubbed at his eyes again, thought about his secret, and nodded at Cesc to continue. His student looked nervous and uncomfortable, but he didn’t have the fucking assignment so it was his own damn fault and David wasn’t about to feel guilty about it-- fuck, maybe he should let the kid stop reading. 

 

But Cesc had already cleared his throat again: 

 

“I love you as the plant that never blooms 

but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; 

thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, 

risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body. 

 

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. 

I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; 

so I love you because I know no other way 

 

than this: where I do not exist, nor you, 

so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, 

so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.” 

 

The room was silent. Someone moved and their chair squeaked, but the silence was stronger and it pressed on Cesc’s ears like the pressure of the ocean would six miles down. Cesc picked up his pencil and pretended to start to annotate even though annotations were his least favorite part because everything reminded him of Iker and that’s all he wanted to write about. 

 

Mr. Beckham went on to ask each of the students to stand up and read what they’d written about the sonnets he’d given them, and Cesc shrunk down in his chair, happy he’d forgotten his homework the night before. 

 

He doodled on the edge of his paper, a little stick figure in front of a goal, holding his gloves in his hands. 

 

+ 

 

Andres was hiding. Not from his roommate-- definitely not from his roommate. He wasn’t afraid of Xavi. I mean, fuck, that was pathetic, and Andres was most definitely not pathetic. He was--

 

He ducked, swore under his breath. That was close. 

 

There was a knock on his door and he jumped. It opened slowly and Javi Martinez appeared, an uncomfortably tall and awkward boy the same year as him. Andres liked him well enough when he didn’t think too hard about it. He was standing in the doorway rubbing his head, looking confused like he’d wandered into the wrong room. He was always walking around like he was confused about something, but he managed to keep up with his classes and two sports just fine. The only thing Andres really knew about him _personally_ , not just what everyone knew, was that one time he’d yelled at Cristiano Ronaldo and everyone hated him for weeks. 

 

Well, not everyone. Andres remembered seeing Xavi smile. Fernando Torres did a little dance. Manuel Neuer asked for Javi’s autograph. 

 

“Oh, hey, Andres!” Like it was surprising that Andres was in his room. 

 

“Hello, Javi,” Andres replied, thinking it was just nice that someone hadn’t called him “Andrew.” One would think that after a month of rooming together, Xavi would realize his name was not actually Andrew. Sometimes Andres felt like correcting him, but every time he tried Xavi either didn’t hear him or just stared at him until he trailed off. 

 

“I was just looking for you.” 

 

“Well, you’ve found me.” 

 

“I have!” He looked gleeful. “Right, well, I was just looking for you to--” He cut off. “Ah, fuck, I forgot-- no, wait, yes, it’s about club day. I’m going around inviting people to join our club.” 

 

“And what club is that?” 

 

“German club.” 

 

“The German club,” Andres repeated, just staring at him. “You’re German?” 

 

“No, but it’s fun. It’s like a cult or something. They’re all super serious about it and everyone yells at me a lot, but that’s okay. We went on a really fun field trip and they left me behind, but I took a taxi back, so it was all good. Anyway, I’ve learned a few German words. I know how to say “no” and stuff like that. I can carry on a full conversation and everything.” 

 

“That’s lovely, Javi,” Andres replied wearily. Because his love life was about the same as Javi’s German: nonexistent. 

 

“Thanks, Andres. Will you join?” 

 

“No, that’s alright,” he said, edging towards the door to attempt The Great Escape. “I’m already in a lot of clubs as it is, and if I join anymore, my workload will just be--” He shook his head like he didn’t have the words for it. 

 

“Oh, what clubs are you in?” 

 

“Oh. You know...” He shrugged. “Clubs.” 

 

“Like what?” Javi waited in the doorway like an impatient puppy and Andres would have run for the door had the other boy’s lanky frame not been blocking it. 

 

Just then, the door creaked open a little farther and Xavi appeared. Andres groaned under his breath. _Shit. Shit. Double shit. Triple shit. Motherfucking pile of shit on my entire life._ “Andres is in the Creative Writing Club with me.” The corners of his lips tipped upwards, daring Javi to question him. “We connect over our love for poetry.” 

 

Javi’s expression brightened and then he looked at Xavi for a second longer before nodding and taking a step back. “Alright, then. But if you’re ever interested in...” He trailed off, stared at Xavi for a moment before swallowing hard. “Uhm, if you ever feel like joining the German club--” 

 

Xavi slammed the door in his face and returned to his desk. 

 

Andres was still standing in the middle of the room with a side-splitting grin. He was so happy he felt like his insides had been carved out and rearranged and settled back inside of him, finally, in a way that made sense. 

 

“Is there a problem?” Xavi asked, not turning around. 

 

“Nope.” He couldn’t keep the smile out of his voice. 

 

“Then why are you just standing there smiling at my back.” 

 

And even though Xavi half-terrified him, half left him absolutely in awe of everything that he was, Andres didn’t stay silent for once. “Andres,” was all he said. 

 

“Yeah, what about it?” 

 

“You called me by my name.” 

 

Xavi’s pen paused on his paper. The muscles in his back tightened. “I always do.” 

 

“Yeah? What have you been calling me this entire time? What’s my name?” 

 

Xavi didn’t turn around. “Do you maybe want to shut the fuck up, Andrew?” 

 

+ 

 

Sergio was sitting in German 1, thoroughly confused. He was good at Spanish. His mother spoke Spanish to him. He’d breezed through 3 and 4 like it was a piece of cake, but, fuck-- German? What the hell was he thinking? The letters even confused him. The way the sentences were arranged wasn’t even making sense. The sounds were too foreign to his ears and he was surrounded by a bunch of freshman, which he normally didn’t mind except-- these freshmen were exceedingly irritating. There were a pair of twins in the back, Lars and Sven Bender, and Sergio felt like throwing the vase of flowers at their faces. They were overly attractive and _good_. Like they were really, really good at German. 

 

“Are you German?” he’d asked at the beginning of class. 

 

“I’m Lars and he’s Sven,” one of them answered as if that was the answer in itself. 

 

“Literally the most annoying class of my life,” Sergio muttered under his breath as their teacher turned around and the class recited the sentence on the board. Sergio couldn’t even say one word of it. 

 

The door opened and the teacher exclaimed, “Oh, good, Fernando, I’m so happy you’re here. Thank you! Thank you so, so much. You’re wonderful. Class, this is our new T.A. He’s filling in for Marco last second because Marco--” She did something with her hands, said something in rapid German and Sergio stared at her in disbelief. German 1, last time he checked not _German I’m fucking fluent._ The only one who looked just as confused was Wayne Rooney across the room, but Sergio liked to think Wayne was even dumber than he was, so the fact that it was just the two of them confused didn’t really do wonders for his self-esteem. 

 

But-- shit. Fernando wasn’t Llorente, tall blonde and gorgeous as Sergio had hoped when his teacher (god, he didn’t even know how to say her name) called out to the figure still half-obscured by the door. Sweet lord of dicks, it was Fernando Torres, tall, blonde, and freckled on every inch of his body. Sergio wondered if there really were freckles on every inch of his body. He sat up straight in his seat to get a better look, but Fernando was walking towards Ms. Hot German Teacher. 

 

He did have a nice ass, but that was beside the point. But, staring at his ass, Sergio was sort of forgetting what the point was in the first place. Not finding Fernando Torres hot? That was no longer possible and no longer the point. 

 

When Fernando finally set his bag down, had a quick, stumbling German exchange with Ms. Yes-please-wear-that-shirt-every-day, he sat down in the chair next to her desk and surveyed the class. He smiled at a few of them, nodded his head at Juan (who’d tested out of Spanish entirely, whatever, Sergio wasn’t jealous), and just when he was looking pleased with the group of people he was stuck with, his eyes landed on Sergio. He froze and the color drained from his face. 

 

Sergio lifted his hand in a kind of half-wave, and Fernando turned pink. He muttered something under his breath and, although Sergio couldn’t hear it, he had a feeling it was something like “Fuck my life.” But Sergio might have just been projecting his own feelings on the situation. 

 

Ms. God-I’d-be-the-dirty-student-in-your-porno turned back to the board and began to write the assignment. “Okay, boys,” she began, her German accent thick, “Pair up and work on this. I want you to present your dialogue at the end of class and--” The rest of her words were lost as people shouted across the room for their partners. 

 

The Bender twins paired up together. A delicate looking boy Sergio recognized from the JV football practice was paired with a tall, muscular boy with hair to his shoulders. Sergio had spoken with the one with wide eyes on a few occasions and he was hoping to pair up with him, but.... He looked around for someone else, but everyone was paired up, and god, that never happened to him. People were always tripping over themselves to pair up with him. 

 

“If there’s an odd number, we can do a group of three,” Ms. I’ll-learn-your-name-just-to-scream-it-when-I-fuck-you said without turning around. “Or, actually--” She turned to grin at Fernando. “Fernando, you pair up with the last person left. This is a fun assignment. You’ll enjoy it.” 

 

She turned around and Fernando mouthed something about “I’d rather die.” Then, “Okay, who doesn’t have a partner?” he asked weakly. 

 

Sergio waited for someone else to raise their hand, but no one did. They all looked at him, and Sergio flicked two fingers in Fernando’s direction. “That’d be me.” 

 

“Brilliant.” And the sarcasm was obvious. Fernando’s embarrassment from that morning had turned into bitterness and his bitterness had transformed him into a sulking mess. 

 

Sergio was still trying to check him out. 

 

“So, exercise four,” Fernando said, getting up and walking to the seat in front of Sergio as the rest of the class began to work. He repeated himself in German and Sergio shook his head. 

 

“Uhm, what?” 

 

“I said, exercise four.” He sighed and a wisp of hair floated away from his forehead. 

 

“Why didn’t you just say it in English?” Sergio glared and ripped a piece of paper out of his notebook. Fernando frowned at the shredded edges. 

 

“We’re in German class.” 

 

“Yeah, I get that, _Fernando_ , but I don’t fucking speak German.” 

 

“You’re learning German. You can learn with immersion.” 

 

Sergio balled his hands into fists. “I’m going to immerse myself in fire if I hear another word of this goddamn language.” 

 

“Don’t blame the language for your inability to understand it.” 

 

Sergio finished writing his name on the paper, and looked up to examine Fernando with a blank, verging on annoyed expression. “Has anyone ever told you you’re fucking annoying?” 

 

“Has anyone ever actually wanted to pair up with you?” 

 

“This is why you get punched in the face, you little shit.” But Sergio was half-laughing, staring down at his paper instead of looking at Fernando because he didn’t want to blush and he didn’t want to admit that they could tease each other like-- not friends, but something close to it. 

 

“Yeah, but I got you pretty good too, didn’t I?” The other boy reached out to flick the place on Sergio’s jaw where a small bruise was almost completely faded. As soon as his hands made contact with Sergio’s skin, he pulled away and his cheeks heated up. 

 

Fernando had a specific way of blushing, a way that wormed its way into Sergio’s mind and kept him up at night. Fernando blushed all the way down to his neck and maybe farther if the shirt hadn’t been there, and, god, maybe it was just because Sergio was _Sergio_ , but he wanted to see just how much he blushed, and where, and if he really had freckles all over his body. 

 

“Yeah,” Sergio agreed quietly, and Fernando looked up at the strange quality his voice had taken on. “Yeah, you did get me pretty good.” 

 

+ 

 

Cristiano was annoyed. Cristiano was really, really annoyed. Not only had Ricky been praying for the past half hour, but he’d invited Leo along too. Like the champion of friendship Leo was, he’d agreed and _prayed_ with Ricky. Actually fucking prayed with him. They’d been sitting there for half a fucking hour and Cristiano couldn’t take it any longer. 

 

Ricky closed his eyes, bent his head, and muttered the words to himself. Every time Ricky turned away, Leo would turn to Cristiano and smirk at him or start humming or, god, just his presence was a holy terror. 

 

“How’s your homework going, Cristiano?” he asked, bouncing energetically on the bed. 

 

“It would be going better if you were in your own fucking room,” the other boy replied, not looking up from his-- okay, not homework, but Leo shouldn’t have been distracting him from skype chatting with Fabio even if Fabio was right in the other room anyway. 

 

“Ricky is allowed to have visitors, Cristiano.” Leo was smirking, staring at Cristiano like, _well you already broke my jaw, so what’s the fucking point?_

 

“Stop saying my name.” He quickly typed out a reply to Fabio. 

 

CR7: LORD OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND HOLY LIONEL MESSI IS A PIECE OF SHOT 

CR7: *SHIT 

fabio_cuntrao: GOD HE’S SO ANNOYING N OBSESSED W/ U 

fabio_cuntrao: EVERYONE IS. 

fabio_cuntrao: Have you accepted Cristiano Ronaldo as your lord and savior? 

CR7: blowjob and I’ll let you be my friend 

fabio_cuntrao: I wannaaa be cooollll like youuu 

CR7: god i hate you 

 

“Why should I stop saying your name, Cristiano?” 

 

“Because it’s annoying, Leo,” he replied as sweetly as possible. “And because you really shouldn’t be speaking unless you’re wearing your mask. Wouldn’t want to damage that broken jaw anymore than necessary.” 

 

Ricky groaned and rubbed at his eyes with his palms. “Stop it. Please. Guys. Just stop it.” He sounded tired and Cristiano almost felt guilty. 

 

Instead of feeling guilty, he shrugged. “Not my fault you brought him in here.” 

 

Leo rolled his eyes. “Not my fault you have a dick for a roommate.” 

 

Ricky didn’t look up at either of them, just looked back down at his rosary, counted the beads, and began to pray again. Cristiano made a face at Leo and put in his headphones, thinking about hatred and how there really was a fine line. Between hatred and what he didn’t know, but there was a fine and thinning line, and he was slowly crossing into unknown territory. 

 

CR7: What are we doing this weekend take me away from here 

fabio_cuntrao: lmao okay princess 

CR7: I”M BEING SERIOUS 

fabio_cuntrao: reLAX. At least you don’t have a room riGHT across from Sergio and Iker. They’re still going at it I sweaR 

CR7: “???? going on??????? 

fabio_cuntrao: still not speaking. Sergio wandering around naked. 

CR7: the fuck r u complaining about 

fabio_cuntrao: u get to tap that 

CR7: be jealousssss 

fabio_cuntrao: you’re really, really annoying 

CR7: :( 

CR7: :( 

CR7: :( 

CR7: take that back 

CR7: :( 

CR7: :( 

CR7: fabio

CR7: FA BI O 

fabio_cuntrao: sorry, got food and saw somethin 

CR7: ????? and you still have to take back that comment 

fabio_cuntrao: not sure if you rlly want to know this (AND UR STILL RLLY ANNOYING) 

CR7: tell me or I’ll floood your phone w/ pictures of me creepy smiling 

fabio_cuntrao: I got these weird salsa chips from the vending machine, but they’re actually really good and now i’m obsessed + I saw fernando helping sese with german hmk and they re practicing this dialogue and it’s fuckING cute + they’re laughing together uGH 

CR7: ... 

CR7 has logged off 5:07 pm 

 

5:07 pm fabio_cuntrao has sent you offline messages 

fabio_cuntrao: Cris???? cmon don’t be pissed. fernando sucks major dick but can we be mature about this? 

fabio_cuntrao: okay I was kidding about the being mature part 

fabio_cuntrao: please don’t do anything stupid???? 

fabio_cuntrao: I’m staying online, but I’m taking a shower b/c I smell like chlorine. waterpolo was ssosoosososoo bad today ok message me back when you’re good

 

CR7: how are you 

sergiofuckingramos: ? 

CR7: what 

sergiofuckingramos: ?? 

CR7: what. I can’t ask how you are?? 

sergiofuckingramos: idk just not like u man 

CR7: how the fuck are you I hate you !! is that better? 

sergiofuckingramos: lmao christ what’s up w/ u? 

CR7: fernando’s tutoring you in german? 

sergiofuckingramos: yeah, he’s my TA in German uno and I didn’t have a partner, so. 

CR7: ? so we like him now? 

sergiofuckingramos: idk I just need time to decide??? I guess not everything is black and white, you know? Maybe we’re not friends, but I don’t hate him that much 

sergiofuckingramos: u feel me? 

CR7: yeah, I think I do 

CR7: and fix things with iker 

CR7 has logged off 5:32 pm 

 

CR7: sorry back now fabio 

fabio_cuntrao: fuCKiFg FinaLLu 

CR7: are you illiterate 

fabio_cuntrao: you spelled shut wrong how am I the dumb one 

fabio_cuntrao: *shit SHIT 

CR7: lmao come over? 

fabio_cuntrao: yeah 

 

“Hey,” Fabio said, not even glancing at Ricky and Leo on the other bed. He shut the door behind him and threw himself on Cristiano’s bed. “Fuck my life. Waterpolo was a bitch and my ass hurts.” 

 

Cristiano snorted. “What, do you guys fuck in the water?” He considered it for a moment, moved his hips in a mocking upward thrust. “Yeah, I’m joining waterpolo next year.” 

 

“Please. Oh my god. Please.” Fabio’s voice was muffled, and he had a mouthful of sheets, but he was smiling. “But--” He sat up, his hair flying everywhere. “You know you’re damn good at football. Maybe you won’t be good at waterpolo.” 

 

“Shut up. I’m good at everything.” 

 

Fabio rolled his eyes and adjusted himself to a comfortable lying down position with his eyes trained on the computer. “So, what are you doing?” 

 

“Homework,” Cristiano said emphatically. He smirked and nodded to the skype window still open. 

 

ikercasillas: practice @ 4 on fri. not at 4:30 

ikercasillas: pm 

ikercasillas: after school 

 

Fabio clucked under his breath. “Oh, Iker. You and your boring usernames.” 

 

“I changed his twitter to @paleplumpass and he still hasn’t noticed.” 

 

“Jesus,” Fabio collapsed in a fit of giggles, and Cristiano ruffled his hair affectionately, ignoring the long, odd stare from Ricky. 

 

“Pale plump ass. Oh god.” 

 

“Well, have you seen it?” 

 

“Too true.” 

 

CR7: so practice at 4:30 am? 

ikercasillas: you’re the reason i hate my life 

CR7: how is that sweet ass of yours 

ikercasillas: read what I said right before this and punch yourself right in the dick 

CR7: don’t be a killjoy iker 

ikercasillas: go away 

CR7: so grumpy all the time be nice to me 

CR7: love me 

CR7: IKER LOVE ME 

ikercasillas: guess who’s starting on the bench saturday? 

CR7: lmao not me b/c i’m fuckin amazing 

ikercasillas: fuck off 

CR7: LANGUAGE i”M REPORTING YOU 

ikercasillas: this pale plump ass needs a shower 

CR7: GOD I LOVE YOU 

ikercasillas has logged off 5:45 pm 

 

Iker checked the clock on his computer. One hour, 15 minutes before he could sneak out again. One hour, fifteen minutes. One hour, fifteen minutes. He put his head down on his desk. One hour, fifteen minutes. 

 

He started the research for his history paper when two of his sources conflicted, he realized he forgot about a huge project due at the end of the week, and he checked his school account to see that he’d failed his last math test. Failed. As in F. Iker Casillas didn’t fail tests. Iker Casillas didn’t get anything less than perfect. He was walking, talking perfection without the ego and complicated mind of Cristiano or the dumb, shallow outer shell of Sergio. He just-- he put his head down on his desk. 

 

It had decimated his grade. It was one failing test, but one failing test in a class where the grade was based off tests and they only took two of them so far fucking sucked. He had a D. He’d never had a D in his life before. 

 

He banged his head once against his desk, but Sergio wasn’t there. He was normally there to put his hand on Iker’s shoulder when things got too stressful and say, “Can we please just go out and get drunk. You’re worrying me.” Or Cristiano to just look at him, shake his head, and remind him that he was “overreacting” and logically explain why he was going to raise his grade, how, what he had to do, etc. 

 

But neither of them were there, and Iker was feeling very, very alone. And not for the first time, friendless. 

 

One hour. 

 

He opened the poetry book and read the marked passage to himself: 

 

“I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, 

in secret, between the shadow and the soul” 

 

Better, he thought, getting better. 

 

One hour. 

 

ikercasillas: we have to talk 

d_becks: I thought we agreed on an hour? 

ikercasillas has logged off 6:03 pm 

 

ikercasillas: got a second? 

CR7 is offline 6:03 pm 

 

+

 

d_becks: iker, you didn’t show up last night? something wrong? 

d_becks logged off 6:30 am 

ikercasillas logged off 6:45 am 

 

+ 

 

d_becks: iker? 

ikercasillas logged off 5:30 pm 

 

+ 

 

CR7: Yeah, sorry didn’t see your message from before, what’s uP??? 

ikercasillas: I’m sleeping with my teacher 

CR7: WHAT THE FUCK CALL ME 


	5. If I Could Talk As Fast As I Think

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iker attempts to deal with the hurricane of shit that is his life at the moment. Sergio and Fernando realize they don't quite hate each other. Xabi and Steven are too bad at hiding it to ever really hide it, but too good at hiding it to make anything happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quotes are from The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath.  
> All of this is fake unless there actually is a Hastings Academy full of like 500 gay boys named after footballers.  
> This is my formal apology for referring to Xabi Alonso as "ginger pubes" but it had to be done.

ikercasillas: NO I CANNOT CALL YOU DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH I’M FREAKING OUT RIGHT NOW I’M LITERALLY FLIPPING MY SHIT HELP ME CRIS  
CR7: CALM DOWN  
CR7: WHO IS IT  
CR7: CAN I COME OVER  
CR7: IKER ANSWER ME  
ikercasillas logged off 10:07 pm 

ikercasillas logged on 10:30 pm  
CR7 has sent you offline messages  
CR7: IKER YOU SHIT GET BACK ON HERE  
CR7: IKER CASILLAS  
CR7: IKER  
CR7: I HATE YOU  
CR7: I SEE YOU WALKING TO THE SHOWER  
CR7: SNAPPING A PIC OF UR NAKED ASS  
CR7: I fucking hate you 

ikercasillas: delete that picture  
CR7: iker, tell me what’s going on NOW  
ikercasillas: you didn’t fucking notice anything before. why should I tell you now?  
CR7: first of all, you motherfucking brought it up, and secondly, I did notice /something/ but I wasn’t sure what it was, and it wasn’t my business to ask you.  
ikercasillas has logged off 10:37 pm 

Cristiano slammed his computer shut and shoved it to the edge of his bed. It’d been days since he actually spoke to Iker. (Okay, maybe it had been two and a half days, but it felt like years and he only saw Iker in passing because Sergio would throw a bitchfit if he saw them getting friendly again). He knew something was off, but he knew Iker wasn’t the sort of person to want to vent about his problems all the time. And Cristiano thought, my fault again. My fault again for not doing anything. 

There was a knock on his door, a long pause, and then Iker poked his head between the door and the wall. Cristiano was alone. He looked grim and pale, shaky as he sat down on the bed next to Cris. 

“Sorry about all that,” he said, and his voice was quiet and confused. 

Cris tucked his knees into his chests and stared at Iker for a long time, shaking his head. “It’s just not like you. I’m not saying anything bad about what you’re doing, because trust me, I have no right, but-- it’s just not like you.” 

“He makes me act that way,” Iker replied with a short laugh, and he seemed confused and shaky all over again. 

Cristiano paused. “He?” 

Iker made a face. “Like you didn’t know.” 

“I had my suspicions, but they were just that.” 

“I was pretty good at hiding it though, wasn’t I?” 

“You know you didn’t have to hide it from us-- from me.” Because he didn’t know where Sergio stood on all of it. If he knew already, if he ignored what he might have known if he had paid more attention... He didn’t know if Iker even wanted to talk about Sergio ever again. 

“Yeah, but I wanted to.” 

“Yeah, well you didn’t hide it completely,” Cristiano shot back sullenly even though he knew he should understand. 

“What gave it away?” 

“You checked out Xabi a few times when he wasn’t looking. He does this thing where he puts his bottle in his mouth when he’s thinking, and you know how he has that soda all the fucking time-- well, you just blatantly stare whenever he’s sucking on the--” 

“Okay,” Iker cut in, holding up his hand, wincing slightly. “Okay, got it. I got it.” 

“I know what you’re thinking, he has a good mouth for--” 

“Nope!” Iker put his hands over his ears. “Nope, I’m good not hearing anything else about this.” 

“For blowjobs,” Cristiano finished quietly when Iker finally put his hands down. 

His captain gave him a harsh glare. “Can you not?” 

“Sorry.” 

They were quiet for a long time, and Iker remembered the first time he met Cristiano, how his jaw had dropped when he saw him play for the first time, how he’d absolutely hated him at first, and then met him, and they’d been inseparable ever since. He thought about how close the three of them had been, and how much he hated Sergio for staying mad, and how much he hated himself for being too stubborn to apologize first. He even hated that Cristiano was friends with both of them. 

Iker wasn’t an angry person. He didn’t normally hold grudges, but if he held one against anybody, he’d hold one against Sergio for this. Because Sergio had left him when he needed him most, and all of a sudden Sergio was lending Fernando his German book to review and they were exchanging notes, and it was fucking weird. And Iker was sitting there alone when he just needed Sergio, and he needed him a lot. 

“Who is it though?” Cristiano finally broke the silence, biting his knuckle, looking at Iker like he almost didn’t want to interrupt his thoughts. 

“David--” Iker cut off, rubbed at his eyes with his fists. “Beckham. Mr. Beckham.” 

“The sophomore English teacher?” 

“Yeah, he teaches seniors too.” Iker looked down at his hands. “It started over the summer when I was here for student council and shit like that. I had to be in meetings for, like, hours, and everything was freaking me the fuck out because I was trying to get service hours done and stuff for applications, and I had schools to visit and--” 

Iker cut off, shook his head again like he was trying to forget. Cristiano nudged his arm. “Yeah?” 

“You went with Sergio’s family to the beach for like two whole weeks and you didn’t even text me the entire time you were there. Which is fine, really it is, but I needed someone to vent to, you know? Everyone needs that sometimes.” Iker paused again, something cleared in his eyes. “And he was here-- there. He was there for me.” 

“Beckham was?” 

“Yeah. He went over my essays for me and my applications and he recommended schools and programs and, god, he spent hours just trying to help me, and I had never met anyone so giving and generous and--” Iker turned pink and Cristiano nudged his shoulder again, trying to tell him that it was going to be okay without having to actually make a promise he couldn’t keep. 

“I know,” Cris said, although he didn’t. 

“It seemed like it was taking forever to start over the summer, but when it finally happened, I felt like I was hurtling down this cliff. And then school started and football started and things started getting back in order, and I realized there was something that wasn’t in place and that was the two of us. I got my schedule, saw he was my teacher, and I was happy-- I don’t know, Cris, I was happy because I could see him, but it makes things so hard.” 

“Well, yeah, he’s your teacher and you’re fucking him, but no one can know you are...” He drifted off when he realized he wasn’t helping. “I mean-- What I mean to say is--” 

Iker groaned and put his head in his hands. “And we were supposed to meet last night, but I didn’t go because I feel like I’m suffocating and I can’t talk to anyone. 

When he looked up, his eyes were wet, his hands shaky, and Cristiano felt like doing nothing more than pulling him into a hug like he would do with Sergio. Well, he would do more with Sergio, but that was Sergio and this was Iker and he and Iker were best friends, but there were certain lines they didn’t cross. 

Cristiano crossed it anyway and pulled Iker into a hug. Iker, for once, didn’t pull away at once. He buried his face in Cristiano’s chest and cried silently until he was tired and his problems felt heavy enough to weigh him down. 

\+ 

CR7: the fuck is your problem  
sergiofuckingramos: what?  
CR7: I thought I made it clear that you were supposed to make up with Iker  
sergiofuckingramos: since when do I take orders from you?  
CR7: you have no fucking idea what is going on, sergio.  
sergiofuckingramos: ????  
CR7: make up with iker  
sergiofuckingramos: No. He can apologize to me first.  
CR7: jesus fucking christ  
CR7 has logged off 1:20 am 

\+ 

The classroom quieted as Mr. Beckham opened his book for the day. He leaned against the podium like he always did, bent forward like there was a glass partition between him and the rows of desks and he was pressing against the glass for a look. He flipped through a few pages, his smile muted and tense. 

“Becks, do we really have to do anything today?” someone called from the back. Iker didn’t check to see who it was. 

Mr. Beckham smiled again, but it was tight and weary. “Yeah, sorry, gotta get through this book or we’re sunk for the rest of the year.” 

“Let us sink,” Xabi groaned from next to Iker. 

Iker shot him a questioning look. “You okay, man? You look exhausted.” 

Xabi just shook his head. “I do not even want to talk about last night.” 

The other boy raised his eyebrows again. Normally he would have pounced on it, forced Xabi to tell him anything and everything and pestered him until he had every single detail, but he just didn’t have the energy. His eyes still felt puffy from the night before, his limbs heavy. He didn’t have the energy to sit in the same classroom as David, and he certainly didn’t have the energy to lend his sympathies to anyone else. 

“Why don’t we pick up where we left off? Did everyone read the chapter?” There was a chorus of “mhm” and “ehh, not exactly” or “I read a few pages.” Mr. Beckham shook his head ruefully. “Alright, alright, we’ll start where we left off in class then, review some parts, and then, if you’re good, I won’t give you the massively hard quiz I had planned.” 

Iker flipped back to the chapter they’d left off on. He looked down, but it was like he’d forgotten how to read. Nothing was making sense, he had a pounding headache, shit, he was still thinking about that failed math test. 

“We’re going to play a game,” Mr. Beckham continued. The class groaned, and he rubbed his hands together. “No, no, a fun game, I promise. I’m going to call on you, give you a quote and you’re going to tell me the context, why it’s important, your thoughts on it, etc. Sort of like seminar, but not. Got it?” 

Xabi nodded, and Mr. Beckham called on him first. “Xabi, here’s yours: ‘I would catch sight of some flawless man off in the distance, but as soon as he moved closer I immediately saw he wouldn’t do at all.’ What does she mean? Why does she say it?” 

Xabi flipped through the pages with his long, thin fingers until he came to the right one. He cleared his throat. “Okay, so she’s talking about first impressions, I think.” He looked up. Mr. Beckham nodded for him to continue. “Because I think sometimes--” He hesitated and Iker vaguely wondered what the hell was happening to him. “I think sometimes people see... people as what they’re not. They seem them as perfect and they imagine that maybe things will be-- I don’t know-- different if they have them, but once they’re closer, it’s like... they’re not. No one is perfect and if we think they are, a flaw is on the way.” 

Mr. Beckham stared at him, nodding quite seriously, and Iker loved when he got that look on his face, like he was so absorbed in what was going on that it just sucked him in and transported him to a different world entirely. 

“Good job.” He marked Xabi off for participation. “Xabi’s points secure for the day-- as usual. First again, Mr. Alonso.” 

Xabi smiled. 

There was a long pause as David stared right at Iker and then, softly, “Iker, your turn if you’re ready.” 

“I’m ready.” 

“‘If you love her", I said "You'll love somebody else someday,’” he read, though he knew the words by heart. David checked back up to look at Iker, and the boy-- god, he was just a boy-- looked pale and thin, and David felt bad for calling on him, felt bad for drawing attention to how much he obviously favored Iker, felt bad for himself because he was looking at the destruction he was causing. 

Iker was silent. 

David pressed his hand down hard on the podium. “Iker, got an idea what it means? Why she said it maybe?” 

“I didn’t do the reading,” Iker lied. “So, maybe someone else can take that one?” 

David’s eyes were darker than Iker remembered. “No, I want you to take it. Think about what you know about her character. Why would she say something like this? Think about it, Iker. All you have to do is think about it. All I’m asking for is an answer. Any answer.” 

“Any answer?” Iker’s voice was icy. 

There was a gentle smile from his teacher. “Within reason.” 

“Is it reasonable to say that I have no idea?” 

There was an intake of breath from Xabi. Iker didn’t flinch. Mr. Beckham was a laid back teacher. He didn’t care what his students called him, if they ate in class, if they did other homework in class after the lesson, if they turned in their homework late, if they forgot the reading. He was fucking amazing, and everyone loved him. People were comfortable and casual around him, but no one-- no one-- ever talked back to him in class. 

“Could you try?” 

“I honestly don’t have an answer for you.” 

“Points are on the line here, Iker,” Mr. Beckham tried again, his tone verging on desperate. 

“Oh, no,” Iker replied mildly, and he flipped his book shut, set it on the top of his desk, and leaned back with his arms folded over his chest. He didn’t move to open the book again. 

Mr. Beckham stared at him, his brow wrinkling with confusion. Iker’s name was on his lips, but he stayed silent. He was in class. He couldn’t reach for him like he wanted to, and he couldn’t be with him like he wanted to. 

“Xavi,” he called instead, “can you tell me about this passage?” 

\+ 

d_becks: what happened in class today?  
ikercasillas: nothing  
d_becks: Breaking News: Iker Casillas speaks  
ikercasillas: I spoke to you in class today.  
d_becks: Yeah, well done by the way.  
ikercasillas: aw fuck I have a zero for the day. Excuse me while I cry myself to sleep.  
d_becks: I wasn’t talking about the lack of participation. I was talking about the lack of respect.  
ikercasillas: You think I don’t respect you?  
d_becks: I think you don’t care about showing it.  
ikercasillas: Here’s an idea  
ikercasillas: If you want me to respect you, don’t fuck me and use me and lie about me and pretend I don’t matter the next day.  
d_becks: What are you talking about? I’ve never acted like you don’t matter.  
d_becks: Iker, you mean the world to me.  
d_becks: Iker. Please.  
ikercasillas: Everything is on the line here, with our relationship. Lately, you’ve been dragging me around and telling me exactly when we should meet up and if I’m a goddamn minute early, you yell at me because someone might find out.  
ikercasillas: yeah, someone might find out, david, but it’s not my fucking fault you’re my teacher and it’s not my fault you’re married  
ikercasillas: I know it’s tough and god I’m so sorry it’s tough, but you can’t just drag me back to your office and fuck me and hide me in the closet when you hear someone coming and then yell at ME for it 

Iker leaned back from his desk, rubbing at his eyes again. He knew he sounded like a belligerent child, but David had been different recently. They hadn’t even kissed in weeks. He reached for his computer again. 

ikercasillas: You can’t just fuck me as hard as you hate yourself for cheating on your wife. How’s Romeo by the way? Wasn’t it your son’s birthday last week?  
d_becks logged off 4:37 pm 

Iker returned to his homework. He didn’t realize he was shaking until his pencil tore right through paper. 

\+ 

sex_flabbergast: gerard  
piqueton: cesc  
sex_flabbergast: I”M BORED  
piqueton: idk think about iker and jack off  
sex_flabbergast: fuck you  
piqueton: you love me  
sex_flabbergast: I DO NOT YOu’RE THE SPAWN OF SATAN  
piqueton: alright let’s not get overdramatic  
sex_flabbergast: you’re ruining my life  
piqueton: well I am the spawn of satan it’s sorta my job  
sex_flabbergast: but did you see iker today?  
piqueton: yes, you pointed him out like 50000000 times  
sex_flabbergast: he looked sad  
sex_flabbergast: :(  
piqueton: probably because you didn’t talk to him  
sex_flabbergast: strike two  
piqueton: what happens at strike three?  
sex_flabbergast: I punch you in the fucking face  
piqueton: awww cescky <3  
sex_flabbergast has sent you a file  
piqueton: dude nice pic of u shirtless + flipping me off  
piqueton: hawt  
sex_flabbergast: i’m going to sleep  
piqueton: it’s 5:00 oh my god  
sex_flabbergast: nap  
sex_flabbergast logged off 5:10 pm 

\+ 

Xabi checked his clock, smiling when he saw that he’d been working for an hour. He packed up his stuff, shrugged off the vague feeling of impending doom when he remembered his AP Bio test the next day, and slid into his shoes. He walked casually over to Steven’s room, but his palms were sweaty, and he was thinking about their unnerving conversation the night before. 

“It’s been awhile since you’ve gone out with a girl,” Steven’s had said, panting as they walked back from the dimly illuminated pitch. Xabi noticed how he lingered on the last word. 

“Yeah,” Xabi had replied vaguely, waving it off. “Not really into that.” 

“Not into what?” Steven had asked, almost too quickly like he was pouncing on the words. Xabi remembered the glimmer of something like excitement in his wild eyes. 

“Uh, dating,” Xabi said quickly. “You know. I’m more focused on my studies.” He tossed the ball up and down once. “And football.” He grinned, and Steven looked away. 

“And girls?” 

Xabi said nothing, and they walked the rest of the way in silence. He didn’t go to sleep at all, staring down his alarm clock until it rang in the morning. 

He knocked on Steven door with the conversation in mind, bouncing the ball up and down on his palm. His roommate answered the door (Jamie or something, Xabi thought) and turned to nod at Steven. “Xabi’s here for you.” 

In a flash, Steven was at the door, hunched as he leant against it like he wanted to shrink into himself. “Football again then?” 

“It’s become our tradition,” Xabi said, smiling, and suddenly he was worried that he’d seen something when there was nothing and, oh god, what if Steven didn’t even want to play? He thought they’d had a thing there. Every night since the start of school and then that conversation and suddenly-- 

“Yeah,” Steven replied with a grin, and Xabi let out a silent sigh of relief. “Yeah, it is. Let me just get dressed.” 

He let Xabi in while he pulled on a clean shirt and shorts (and Xabi pointedly looked away disinterestedly). They talked about classes for a little while, and Xabi had a feeling the other boy was just humoring him because he knew Steven didn’t care all that much about school. 

“You’re not in my English class though, are you? Because Iker was hilarious in class. He talked back to Beckham, and it was insane because--” Xabi cut off as they reached the semi-functional elevator; he felt Steven’s eyes on him. “What?” 

“Hmm?” 

“You’re looking at me.” 

“You were telling a story, Xabi. That’s what most normal people do when someone is telling them a story. Unless you’d rather have me stare at my shoes or the ceiling or, I don’t know, one of your hands?” He grabbed Xabi’s hand and inspected it closely. “Yes, please do go on about Iker in English class.” He stared expectantly at Xabi’s hand. 

Xabi laughed and tore his hand free. “Shut up. You know what I meant.” 

“I don’t.” 

Xabi sighed. “You were looking at me weird.” 

“Was not.” 

“You were.” 

Steven just smiled. “If you say so.” 

He turned to hit the button to hide his face, and the light turned orange. The elevator doors opened, and they spoke no more of weird looks or hand touching or anything that might give either of them away. The doors closed and they returned to arguing about football. Xabi never finished his story. 

\+ 

ginger_x: ? up w/ iker?  
CR7: hey there, ginger pubes how are you?  
ginger_x: one of these days someone is going to punch you in the face and you’re going to deserve it  
ginger_x: oh wait. that already happened  
CR7: and then I broke his jaw  
CR7: moral of the story: I was born to win  
ginger_x: moral of the story is you make me want to puek  
CR7: *puke  
ginger_x: that’s what I said  
CR7: okkay  
ginger_x: why do our conversations always go like this WHAT IS UP WITH IKER  
CR7: he has a problem I can’t say anything else  
ginger_x: like a... problem problem?  
CR7: there is literally no way to tell what you mean by ‘problem problem’  
ginger_x: why can’t you tell me?  
CR7: because iker will flip his shit and I unlike everyone else at this school can actually keep a secret  
ginger_x: w/e is he okay tho?  
CR7: yeah  
CR7: well  
CR7: no  
CR7: but he will be 

\+ 

“Wait,” Sergio said, his pencil hovering over the paper, “I still don’t understand the whole structure of this sentence or how to pronounce this or--” He pushed the notebook forward and shook his head. “Yeah, I don’t understand any of it. This language is impossible. Can I drop it please?” 

He looked expectantly up at Fernando like he had some say in the decision, and Fernando felt something rise in his chest. He quickly crushed the hopeful feeling and frowned at the other boy. “Shut up and don’t just give up right away.” 

“Frodo didn’t give up right away,” Sergio teased, and Fernando turned pink. 

“Shut up. I’m proud of my Lord of the Rings obsession, and I told you that in the hopes that you wouldn’t make fun of me. I forgot that you’re Sergio Ramos and, therefore, the worst person on this planet.” 

“Sergio Ramos is not the worst person on this planet.” 

Fernando felt a smile creeping over his lips. “Would you get back to your work?” 

Sergio smiled, and it was achingly beautiful. “You know I’m grateful you’re helping me, right?” 

Fernando nodded. “Yeah, I am a pretty good German tutor.” 

“Look at you getting all cocky.” 

“You just wanted to use cocky so you could say cock, didn’t you?” 

Sergio scowled. “I’m expanding my vocabulary.” 

Fernando smacked his book. “Expand your German vocabulary. You have a test tomorrow.” 

“Can’t you just take it for me?” 

“Sergio,” the other boy groaned, “Just study and you’ll do fine, okay? I know you’re smarter than you think. Just.” He paused, and Sergio locked eyes with him, and it was like nothing he’d experienced before. It wasn’t love and it wasn’t a long, adoring stare, but it was electric, and Fernando felt like fire was playing at his fingertips. “I believe in you, you know? So. Yeah, you should too.” 

“You believe in me, huh?” 

Fernando was quiet for a long time, and then he shrugged. “I guess. Maybe a little.” 

“Maybe a lot?” 

“Maybe.” 

+

sergiofuckingramos: I heard something was up with you  
ikercasillas: ?  
sergiofuckingramos: from xabi  
ikercasillas: xabi said something was up?  
sergiofuckingramos: yeah  
ikercasillas: well nothing is  
sergiofuckingramos: ok  
sergiofuckingramos: it’s just that he normally isn’t wrong  
ikercasillas: then why are you asking if you already know it’s true?  
sergiofuckingramos: I don’t know.  
sergiofuckingramos logged off 3:57 am. 

Iker was hoping for “I cared.”


	6. A Work In Progress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iker cuts class, Sergio contemplates the location of his soul, Leo gets protective. Cristiano Ronaldo remains everyone's problem.

ginger_x: okay can I ask you an awkward question? 

CR7: lmao if this is about your ginger pubes, I give up 

ginger_x: fuck off about my pubes 

CR7: ugh you’re no fun what do you want 

ginger_x: ughhhhhhh 

ginger_x: how do I ask someone out 

CR7: oh my god you’ve asked people out before 

ginger_x: no, I mean PEOPLE 

CR7: oh mY goD you can’t just EMPHASIZE things and EXPECT them to SUDDENLY makE sENSE TO ME 

ginger_x: A GUY OKAY 

CR7: oh that blonde kid? 

ginger_x: brb 

CR7: ?? 

ginger_x: i’m going to hold my breath until I pass out, smack my head, and forget you ever said that 

CR7: don’t be so dramatic you’ve had a crush on him since freshman year 

ginger_x: how do I delete a conversation 

ginger_x: HOW DO I DELETE A CONVERSATION 

CR7: RELAX he likes you too 

ginger_x: NO HE DOESn’T I CAN’T TALK TO YOU ANYMORE 

ginger_x: no i wasn’t serious cris answer me why do you think he likes me 

CR7: I know everything 

ginger_x: CR I S I DON’T BELIEVE YOU 

CR7: you’re hot and smart and your birthday card for me last year made me cry like you actually made me a card sergio only did it to make fun of me 

CR7: okay it didn’t actually make me cry but I read it twice and used it as a bookmark until sergio spat soda all over my book and it got all gross but the point is that you’re awesome and why the fuck wouldn’t he like you 

ginger_x: how do I take a screenshot of this 

CR7: fuck you it’s 4 am I haven’t slept at all 

CR7: it’s so early it almost makes me have emotions idek 

ginger_x: don’t you dare fall asleep I’m extracting as much as possible from you 

CR7: extracting ew 

ginger_x: you’re annoying now tell me why you think he likes me 

CR7: okay so awhile ago I thought Iker liked you so I was paying more attention to you than usual (you’re welcome btw) and I saw you hung around him a lot and I thought hm I wonder if xabi’s into dick and turns out you are and turns out I was right about you liking this blonde kid 

ginger_x: steven 

CR7: yeah whatever I was right 

ginger_x: go to sleep you’re being even more of a shit than usual 

CR7: nighty night enjoy your dreams 

ginger_x has logged off 4:12 am 

 

Ricky rolled over in bed, and Cristiano looked up just as he was setting his computer on his desk. He paused, looked at the sleeping form of the other boy, and something rose in his chest that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He wasn’t sure what it was; it exceeded being protective, and wanting to be someone’s friend, and loving a certain aspect of someone’s personality. It was so much, and he was worried, because he had a knack for turning something that was once “so much” into something worth so little. 

 

Ricky slowly opened his eyes, rubbed at them, and half sat up with his back against the wall and his head leaning forward to rest on his legs. “You awake?” he said into his legs. 

 

“Are you talking to me?” Cristiano’s heart was thumping unsteadily, and he frantically told himself to stop it, stop it, just _stop_ whatever he was feeling or doing or _thinking_. 

 

“There’s no one else in the room, Cris. Of course I’m talking to you.” Ricky’s voice was gentle, but his every word was like a slap in Cristiano’s face. Just because of what Ricky was, how innocent he appeared to be, how sweet he was, how considerate and compassionate, and how that just wasn’t possible. 

 

“Well, yeah, I’m awake.” He pulled the comforter up to his chin and pointedly stared up at his ceiling. 

 

“Are you--” Ricky cut off hesitantly. “Are you okay?” 

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

 

“Just me asking if you’re okay, Cris.” 

 

There was a long pause and the darkness in the room seemed to intensify. “Of course.” 

 

“Yeah. I thought you’d say that.” 

 

“Why?” 

 

“Because you always pretend to be fine,” Ricky answered, yawning, “And you never are.” 

 

Cristiano laughed the laugh he saved for “not caring” and gripped the comforter a little tighter. “And how would you know?” 

 

“I don’t know, Cristiano. I care, I guess, and that’s how I know. I look at you, wanting to see that you’re okay, and I don’t see that. I see exactly the opposite and I see you helping other people and being exactly the opposite of the person I thought you were-- and I’m even more ashamed than ever of not liking you in the beginning. And I’m sorry--” He sat up to say the rest and, when he did, he saw Cristiano sitting up straight in bed, staring at Ricky with the most vulnerable expression he’d ever seen him carry. 

 

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” And Cristiano’s voice was softer than Ricky had ever heard it. “I have that effect on people.” 

 

“But you shouldn’t have had that effect on _me_ ,” Ricky said firmly, setting his jaw. “And I want to make it up to you.” 

 

“Really, don’t worry about that. Just keep Leo away from me as much as possible and we’re all good.” He gave another fake laugh. 

 

“Deal.” Another long pause, and Cristiano watched the way the shadows moved on the wall, wishing he had fallen asleep a lot sooner so he didn’t have to deal with the reality of his situation with Ricky-- or the contemplation of the reality of his situation with Ricky. “Why don’t you like him though?” 

 

Cristiano laughed under his breath. “Do you have all night?” 

 

Ricky actually nodded. “Of course. All the time you need.” 

 

Cristiano didn’t bother telling him he was joking. He sighed. “I don’t actually hate him all that much. I mean, he’s really fucking annoying because everyone thinks he’s all nice when really he’s just as bad as the rest of us. Human, you know. He’s human too. And then he has to go and make us feel like we’re less than him because he’s not _socializing_ or whatever and, like, what is his problem with the team anyway? Why did he turn them down? I had no choice, Ricky. If you want to know the truth, which I’m sure you would just _love_ to--” 

 

Ricky nodded vigorously, and Cristiano almost smiled. There was something mature about him and something innocent about him, and Cristiano wasn’t sure how they fit together so naturally, but he liked it and he didn’t like those sorts of things a lot unless he was corrupting them. 

 

“I’m here on scholarship,” Cristiano said finally, and his eyes burned into Ricky’s in a way that should have made the other boy turn away. “The only way my parents--” He stopped “The only way my mom can afford this place is because scouts came to the old shitty school I was about to attend, watched me play, and that’s all it took. I wanted to be on the team, but I didn’t have a choice, really. I didn’t get to deliberate for days before finally deciding on rec because I’m _too fucking good_ for anything else.” 

 

Ricky’s eyes widened. “I-I had no idea, Cris. But Leo’s not like that. He’s not what you think he is. Just like I misjudged you, you’re misjudging him.” 

 

“Yeah, but the difference is that I don’t give a shit.” The other boy returned to his back, staring up at the ceiling with the feeling like he’d damaged something. 

 

“Goodnight then, Cris.” 

 

And Cristiano didn’t answer. 

 

+ 

 

The next day in class was the most painful for Iker. It was the first day of class since the fight with David. At least he hadn’t said those things face to face, but Iker knew it had hurt David just the same. There was a sickening sense of dread forming in the pit of his stomach, worsening with every step he took towards the classroom. 

 

He took his normal seat next to Xabi, and Xabi looked even worse than the class before. There were dark circles under his eyes and, for the first time all year, he was finishing the reading in class. “Iker, do _not_ give me that look like you’re about to lecture me because I lectured you earlier in the year because it’s just annoying and it makes me hate you.” 

 

“You’re a bundle of sunshine this morning.” Iker fiddled with his pen, forcing himself not to watch for David coming. 

 

“Yeah, _you too._ ” He finished the last page, set the book down, and pointedly stared at Iker until his face turned pink and he looked away. 

 

“It’s nothing.” 

 

“It’s always something with you.” 

 

“Xabi, fuck off. In all seriousness, fuck off. I really don’t want to be in this class right now. I can’t take the--” He was about to say something about David, so he quickly slapped his hand down on his book. “--the damn book. I hate it.” 

 

“Yeah.” Xabi chewed the end of his pen, and Iker thought about what Cristiano had said about Xabi having a good mouth for giving head. Iker tilted his head to get a better look. Xabi caught him staring and gestured like “what the fuck.” 

 

Iker turned back to the front of the room, but David-- Mr. Beckham, fuck, he really needed to get back to calling him that-- hadn’t appeared yet. 

 

“Are you on crack, Iker? Do I need to lecture you about drugs?” Xabi’s thin fingers played with the end of his pen, and Iker stared again without realizing it. 

 

He glared when he caught himself staring. “Can you please shut up and get back to being miserable about your miserable life.” 

 

“I thought we could be miserable together instead.” Xabi smiled, but there was a desperate edge to it. 

 

“Yeah, man, we can cry at lunch if you’re cool with that.” 

 

“Please.” 

 

The classroom door opened and Mr. Beckham appeared. Iker shrunk down in his chair. He wasn’t called on the entire class period until the very end when everyone was packing up their stuff, moving around and racing to the door to make it to the next class in time. 

 

“Iker, can I speak to you for a minute?” 

 

Iker didn’t look up, just slowly packed his things into his backpack until the room had emptied. He zipped up the biggest pocket and approached David’s desk. _Mr. Beckham_. Mr. Beckham’s desk. 

 

David-- fuck it, Iker was never going to get back to calling him Mr. Beckham-- had his chin resting on his hand, but when Iker touched the end of his desk to get his attention, he snapped upright, removed his glasses, and put away the book he’d been staring at-- staring at, not reading, because his eyes were glazed over and he was too still to be absorbing anything. 

 

Iker knew how he looked when he read something. Sometimes he smiled and tapped his finger against the edge of the book. Other times he frowned and the tapping was faster. More common was the lazy look of neither happiness nor displeasure, but of the simple adoration of something brilliant. Iker had a feeling he had that same look whenever he watched David. 

 

“You wanted to talk to me?” 

 

David nodded, swiped at his eyes like he wanted to remove his glasses again, but upon finding his face empty, he froze. He scooted closer to his desk, the chair creaking, his movements jerky. “Iker, I--I wanted to talk to you about-- your attitude in class. It’s come to my attention that you’re not putting forth your best effort. Doing homework in class, not doing the reading, or, like today, putting in your headphones when I’m having the class read a passage.” 

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Iker almost smiled. “This has got to be a joke.” 

 

“Mr. Casillas, if you continue like this in my class, I’ll have you moved to a different period with a different teacher. And for your belligerence, I’ll see you in detention Tuesday night.” 

 

Iker slammed his fist down on the table, leaned close to David’s blank face, and smiled like a madman. He was in control. He was always in control of his emotions. Just. Not when it was like this. That’s when he lost it, when it was like he was the only one who cared about anything at all. That’s when he couldn’t take it anymore. 

 

“Move me then,” he replied, and his lips were dangerously close to David’s. “Move me to a different teacher in a different period and you’ll still think about all the time we spent together. You’ll still think about the time you almost left your wife and kid because of me. You’ll still see me in the hallways and feel like something is dragging you down until you can’t breathe and you can’t think and you can’t do anything but think about everything that happened between us and how you punished me for how you’re feeling.” 

 

David’s eyes widened slightly, just the small flare-up of panic, and then it disappeared, and he leaned forward again. Iker stood up straight, his cheeks flushed, not wanting to even touch him anymore. “You shouldn’t talk to your teacher like that.” 

 

“Yeah, well you shouldn’t fuck your students.” 

 

“A little late for that,” David conceded, his face falling, because he couldn’t keep up the strict teacher act for too long without minor character breaks. 

 

Something in Iker’s chest felt like it was caving in, and he shoved David’s stack of papers to the floor. It was quieter than he thought it would be, less dramatic, but David would have to pick it up all the same, and anything that inconvenienced him was good enough for Iker. 

 

“I can’t believe you,” Iker said quietly as the last paper slipped to the floor, floating and moving in the air before landing with the rest. “I just can’t believe that I ever trusted you, ever thought you were a good person-- I can’t believe I ever admired you at all.” 

 

“You shouldn’t have.” David looked down at his hands, his voice softening. “Iker, you never should have wanted anything like me. You belong with someone--better.” 

 

And then Iker just felt like crying because everything was hot and cold and so confusing and he just wanted to be dating someone who didn’t have a family to get back to or a job that meant more. He wanted to mean the world to someone, and David could say it as many times as he wanted-- “You mean the world to me, Iker”-- and Iker knew it would never be true. 

 

“Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t.” Iker stepped on the stack, leaving a dusty footprint in his wake. “But I know I sure as hell don’t belong with you.” 

 

+ 

 

ikercasillas: I talked to David again 

CR7: ?????? 

ikercasillas: I’m a fucking mess say I’m sick or something 

CR7: want me to skip? We can sneak off campus or something 

ikercasillas: No. Go to your classes. Just say I’m sick. 

ikercasillas: please 

CR7: of course 

ikercasillas has logged off 11:53 am 

 

+ 

 

Sergio was confused again, but that wasn’t really any different from a normal day. They had a sub in German I and he was slightly disappointed because he’d been really enjoying staring at his teacher all day. Apparently she had the flu or something. 

 

Their sub wasn’t interesting at all and the class was instructed to finish a few workbook pages. Fernando was sitting in the front of the room, reading-- Sergio squinted-- something. He was reading something. 

 

“Fernando,” Sergio whisper-shouted. The sub shot him a glare. “Fernando,” he said again, this time louder, and Fernando looked up. 

 

He grinned and dropped his book, started across the classroom and met Sergio at his desk. He crouched down to kneel and rested his chin on the desktop. “How are you?” 

 

“Good. Confused. In my natural state.” 

 

“Need help?” 

 

“Please.” 

 

“Let me ask if I can tutor you outside, okay?” Sergio nodded, and Fernando slapped his arm briefly before approaching the teacher, conversing with her briefly, and then turning back with a smile. _Come on_ , he mouthed, gesturing to the door. 

 

Once they were outside, Sergio immediately relaxed. For the past couple days, he hadn’t seen Cristiano and he hadn’t even really seen Iker despite rooming with him. He’d hung out with Fernando at least once every single day, and they’d even eaten dinner together when Cristiano was too absorbed in listening to whatever Iker had to say with his brooding expression and worried forehead crinkles. 

 

Sergio liked Fernando. Or he was starting to. He liked to tell himself that he wasn’t that far gone yet, but then Fernando smiled again and his argument was lost. 

 

“So what tense are you doing right now?” 

 

“Uhm.” Sergio flipped back to the page and stopped walking. “Present.” He looked back up with a proud smile. 

 

Fernando shook his head, muttered something under his breath, and guided Sergio to a bench in the shade not far from the Foreign Language wing’s exit. He grabbed the book from Sergio and promptly shut it. “You know more than you think. Stop freaking yourself out. You need to relax a little too.” 

 

“I relaxed last night.” Sergio shrugged uncomfortably, almost did his hair-flip thing until he remembered he’d gotten it cut-- he was never going to get used to that. 

 

“No. You were all tense and worried about Iker.” Fernando shot him a look out of the corner of his eye. 

 

“I’m not worried about him.” Sergio spotted a cluster of freckles on Fernando’s neck and he sucked in a breath too quickly. 

 

“Yeah, sure you’re not. You’ve just been best friends with him all your life. Now you’ve had one tiny fight about socking me in the jaw, and you’re never going to speak to him again. Yeah. Okay.” 

 

“Don’t sass me, Fernando Torres.” 

 

“Don’t lie to me, Sergio Ramos.” 

 

There was a long pause in which Sergio told himself to search his soul. Searching, searching... He wasn’t sure exactly where his soul was and then that started distracting him and he got himself confused again because the first place he would look for his soul was his ankle, but now that he really thought about it, it didn’t make much sense. 

 

“What are you thinking about?” 

 

“Ankles,” he said thoughtfully. “Or, souls. Ankles and souls. Your soul is in your ankle. I mean. I was wondering where a soul would be because I wanted to search mine.” 

 

“Mother of god,” Fernando breathed. “Please never speak again. You’re embarrassing yourself and I feel embarrassed for you.” 

 

“You sound like Cris.” Sergio smiled. 

 

Fernando almost found it difficult to breath, and he vaguely considered the possibility that he had asthma or that he was allergic to Sergio Ramos. “Please don’t say that.” 

 

“Why?” 

 

“Because I know about you and Cris.” 

 

Sergio froze. “You what?” 

 

“I know you two...” He trailed off and gestured with his hands. “You know. You two had a thing. Don’t say I’m anything like him.” 

 

Something in Sergio’s expression changed and any kindness he had ever shown Fernando in the past evaporated in that instant. “And why is that? Is it just too much of an awful thought to even contemplate? Do you have a problem with people being that way?” 

 

Fernando looked horrified. “No, of course not.” He began to turn pink. “That’s not what I meant at all. I meant. Something else entirely. And I don’t have a problem with people being gay. Not at all. Like. _Really_. Not at all.” 

 

Sergio’s glare softened, but Fernando could tell he wasn’t entirely forgiven yet. “Then what did you mean?” 

 

“I just meant that he’s an idiot for just--” Fernando gestured again. “For just fucking you. He’s an absolute idiot for not appreciating you more and, you know, dating you or something.” 

 

Sergio tried to frown, but a smile was creeping up on him. “And why do you say that?” 

 

“I don’t know.” Fernando looked away. “I’m just being a good friend. Helping you with your self-esteem and all.” 

 

“Fuck you,” he replied softly, smile evident in his voice. 

 

“Yeah,” Fernando agreed. 

 

+ 

 

nando_torres: okay don’t be pissed at what I’m about to say 

messiah: I won’t be pissed AT what you’re about to say. I’ll probably just be pissed at you. 

messiah: tell me anyway 

nando_torres: sergio isn’t as bad as we thought 

messiah: oh my god i don’t fucking care they’re douchewads no matter what you and ricky say 

nando_torres: okay shut up for a second 

nando_torres: I know for a fact that you don’t hate Cristiano like you used to 

messiah: yes I do 

messiah: my blood pressure is perfectly normal until I see him and then I do, and I should be hospitalized. 

nando_torres: okay fine whatever he’s still annoying and SO IS SERGIO but he’s actually alright 

nando_torres: he’s not the spawn of satan like I originally thought 

messiah: fine, I accept that he’s not the spawn of satan, but I think “alright” might be a bit much 

nando_torres: ugh you’re impossible 

messiah: k I gotta get to practice 

nando_torres: are you mad? 

messiah: no, I swear I’m not 

messiah has logged off 3:30 pm 

 

+ 

 

Leo shut his computer with a frustrated sigh and turned to change for practice even though he still had a good 45 minutes before he really had to go. He was just reaching for his shirt when David shut his computer and turned around. 

 

“What are you all sigh-y about?” 

 

“Nothing,” Leo replied politely because 1) David Villa intimidated him and 2) it wasn’t polite to share personal problems with people one hardly knew / maybe sort of had a crush on. 

 

David shrugged. “Yeah, okay. If you don’t want to share your issues with me, that’s just fine. I’m only asking to be nice.” 

 

“Well, don’t,” Leo muttered under his breath. 

 

David’s eyebrows shot up, and for a second it looked like he would explode, but the moment passed and his features softened. “You know, if someone is bothering you, I’d be extremely happy to hack into their school account, send some porn to teachers through their email, fuck with their grades, attendance, whatever. No one fucks with my roommates, you know?” 

 

Leo found himself blushing, and he tried to cover it up with a cough attack. “Yeah,” he croaked out. “Thanks. Thanks a lot.” 

 

“Don’t thank me. I’m only saying it to be nice.” 

 

“Right.” He just stared back blankly. 

 

“Need help carrying your stuff to practice?” 

 

“Nah, I’m good.” 

 

David help up his hands with a shit-eating grin. “Alright. I was only--” 

 

Leo started for the door with his clothes in his hands instead of changing. “--asking to be nice. I know, I know.” The door slammed shut and Leo leaned against the other side. “God forbid you do anything because you _like_ me. Fuck you.” 

 

He stood at the door grumbling quietly under his breath for a few minutes before the door opened and David threw his duffel bag out after him. It smacked him in the back and before he could yell at David for throwing it (or at least contemplate yelling at him and then back out), the door shut again and, this time, locked. 

 

He did the only thing he could do: pulled out his phone and attempted to take care of one problem at a time. 

 

messiah: hey xavi 

xavi_h: Hello, Leo. What’s up? 

messiah: I was wondering if I could ask you for a favor. 

xavi_h: ask away. 

messiah: do you have cristiano’s IM? 

xavi_h: I’m very confused. 

messiah: Yeah, same. I just need to ask him about something. 

xavi_h: why don’t you just talk to him face to face? Doesn’t he practice on the field next to you? 

messiah: I really hate him. Talking to him face to face would probably make me puke. 

xavi_h: I understand. It’s CR7. Can I ask what this is about? 

messiah: My friend is becoming friends with his friend and I’m pretty sure it’s bad news. 

xavi_h: Enjoy. Talking to Cristiano Ronaldo is like banging on your eardrums with the bones of your own dead corpse. 

messiah: I’ll keep that in mind. 

 

messiah: Cris 

CR7: who’s this? 

messiah: short, broken jaw, hates your guts 

CR7: you’re describing a lot of people with the first and third 

CR7: but the second means you can only be my favorite little munchkin gnome crossbreed. 

CR7: Or my least favorite. Depending on which way you turn the list. 

messiah: you put a lot of energy into hating me, don’t you 

CR7: yup 

CR7: what do you want 

messiah: why are fernando and sergio becoming friends? I just wanted to make sure it’s not part of some weird ass prank where fernando ends up jumping off the roof because he’s depressed 

messiah: and the whole time sergio wasn’t even his friend and the whole thing was orchestrated by you to get back at us about the fight and suddenly I’m out one friend because he jumped off the roof 

CR7: what movie is this? 

messiah: I’m just looking out for my friend. That, I’m sure, you’ll understand. 

CR7: I haven’t talked to Sergio about it because I don’t stalk my friends and get my panties in a bunch when they’re branching out and ////meeting new people//// 

messiah: so you don’t know anything about this 

CR7: no fuck off 

messiah: every time we talk I love you more and more 

CR7: xoxo I hope your floss gets stuck in your teeth 

messiah has logged off 3:45 pm 

 

CR7 has sent you offline messages 

CR7: but leo in all seriousness 

CR7: sergio wouldn’t do something like that 

CR7: if fernando says they’re friends, they are 

 

+ 

 

Iker skipped practice for no reason for the first time in four years. He was called to the Dean’s office later for skipping his classes, met with Mr. Mourinho with his head hung and his shoulders slumped. He faked a cough. 

 

“Now, Iker, I believe that you were sick, but see Mr. Beckham called in just to make sure. He said you looked just fine in class and he was worried you contracted something so suddenly that maybe you were-- oh, I don’t know, cutting class?” Mourinho folded his hands on his desk, and shot Iker the most unpleasant smile he could muster. 

 

“I wasn’t cutting class,” Iker mumbled, and it came out sounding whiny. “I had Cristiano tell the office I wasn’t feeling well.” 

 

“Yes. And I love Cristiano. I think he’s a great student, really wonderful kid, but with the amount of, excuse me, but _shit_ he’s pulled, do you really think they’re going to take his word that you were ill?” 

 

Mr. Mourinho liked to gestures with his hands a lot. Iker preferred to watch his hands rather than his face because sometimes he had a theory his eyes reflected the pits of hell. 

 

“No, but I thought if I went to the office and puked all over the nice carpet, they’d get the message a little too clearly,” Iker replied very seriously. 

 

Mr. Mourinho wiped his brow, giving Iker a look-- well, if looks could kill... “Alright, Iker. Just next time please stop by the office yourself.” 

 

“Will do.” 

 

“And get to sleep. You look terrible. Your eyes are all red. Maybe it’s an allergic reaction?” 

 

_No, that’d be the pathetic sobbing in my pillow_. Iker nodded. “Yeah, maybe. Thanks.” 

 

He returned to his room, stretched out on the bed, and pulled the covers over his face in case Sergio stopped in before practice. He couldn’t handle seeing him too. He couldn’t handle looking at all the proof in the world that his life had gone to shit. 

 

+ 

 

sex_flabbergast: iker? 

ikercasillas: yeah, what’s up cesc? did practice go well? 

 

Iker rested his face on the edge of his laptop, and he honestly did feel like he had a fever. He had a habit of making himself physically sick when he was just emotionally unwell. He stared at the screen, waiting for Cesc’s response. 

 

He and Cesc didn’t talk very often, but it wasn’t odd when they did. It was comfortable, and he got the feeling Cesc almost looked up to him. Almost the way Iker himself had looked up to David. He suddenly felt sick, like maybe he should push Cesc away until he hated the sight of him. 

 

sex_flabbergast: yeah, i’m ready for a nap now 

ikercasillas: you and me both 

sex_flabbergast: before you go though 

sex_flabbergast: I had a ? 

ikercasillas: shoot 

sex_flabbergast: I checked the tutoring list for Algebra II and your name is there 

sex_flabbergast: are you still free to tutor after school sometimes? 

ikercasillas: of course 

sex_flabbergast: THANK YOU SO MUCH 

ikercasillas: you’re welcome cesc :) 

 

It was the first thing that had genuinely put a smile on his face all day. 

 

+ 

 

“Steven!” Xabi was banging on the door, his cheeks flushed, his breathing hard. He’d spent all practice thinking about what he was going to say. He had meant to race back to his room to look up some love quote or something to make it more romantic because that was just who Xabi was, but he didn’t have the time, and he couldn’t keep his secret much longer. It was beginning to weigh him down. 

 

The door finally opened and Steven smiled when he saw Xabi. He put a finger to his lips. “Hey, how are you?” 

 

“Good. How was practice?” Xabi’s hands were shaking. He didn’t really have time for small talk, but it was instinctive to ask that. 

 

“It was good,” Steven replied, smiling, and Xabi’s heart was in his throat. “Look, I-- Can we meet up later tonight? I’ve got something to tell--”The door opened a little farther, and a girl appeared, weaving her arm around Steven’s waist. Blonde and shockingly beautiful, she was dressed in one of Steven’s t-shirt and black lace panties. 

 

Xabi had to look away, not only because she was absolutely scaldingly hot, but because she was. Well. Steven was hers. She was his. She had a pretty smile, a pleasant smile, and in that moment, Xabi hated her. 

 

Something in Steven’s expression was unreadable. “Xabi, this is Alex. She goes to St. Anne’s. Listen, I’ve got to sneak her back out, but wait for me here and then we can talk? I’ve got something to tell you and you looked like you had something to tell me too, yeah?” 

 

Xabi nodded. He felt like his limbs were made of jelly. 

 

Steven brushed by him. Their hands met by accident, and Xabi pulled away. He watched them disappear down the hallway. Steven didn’t look back once, and when he came back to his room after dropping Alex off, Xabi was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Work In Progress:  
> Every love affair, whether the couple is married or meeting for the first time, is a work in progress. There is no being "fixed" and there is no being permanently broken. 
> 
> (this relates to the title and the story somehow idk if you find the connection helpful or not)
> 
> **edit: Diana disagrees with me and says Steven's hair is brown, but it looks lighter to me. So.


	7. As Tears Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iker has more secrets. Something makes Cristiano cry. Xavi's a bitch for a reason. Sergio does something Sergio Ramos-y.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These boys make me sad.   
> Cesc's two lines are from Pablo Neruda again.

ikercasillas: cesc is eating breakfast with us today 

ikercasillas: make sure you’re nice 

CR7: ugh 

ikercasillas: cris seriously it would be really nice if he could come to our table, be tutored by me, NOT fail his next test, and not end up hating us all by the end of it like leo and fernando. It would be REALLY NICE if you could contribute to this. 

CR7: and when have you ever known me to be really nice? 

CR7: I’m just enough of an asshole to be considered devilishly beautiful and I’d like to keep it that way thank you very much 

ikercasillas: I will change my username to whatever you want as long as you promise to treat cesc like you would treat one of us 

CR7: I just have to be this kid’s bodyguard and all my dreams come true 

CR7: DEAL 

CR7: change it to paleplumpass right this fucking minute 

CR7: DOOO ITTTTT 

paleplumpass: I hate my life so fucking much 

paleplumpass has logged off 7:27 am 

 

+ 

 

Iker shoved Cristiano roughly aside to take the spot next to him at the table. The other boy made a face, but scooted over anyway, pushing a plate towards him. “Eat, gotta keep that ass plump.” 

 

Cesc sat down just then, math book in hand, giving Iker a questioning look. His cheeks almost looked pink, but Iker knew Cristiano could throw people off that way and _that_ was why he was blushing. “Uhm, sorry, what?” 

 

“Don’t you think Iker has a plump ass?” Cristiano asked Cesc in a way Iker could only describe as polite. 

 

“I--” Cesc looked like he might start hyperventilating and Cristiano shot Iker a vaguely concerned look. “I mean, I think it depends on what you consider plump.” He shut his eyes momentarily like he’d made an awful mistake. “I mean, no, because I don’t know what Iker’s ass looks like. I mean, I know, but I mean. What I mean to say is--” 

 

Cristiano coughed loudly. “Sorry, thought I choked on my pancakes.” He coughed loudly again as Cesc tried to restart what he was saying. “God, can’t get that out of my throat.” 

 

“I just meant-- Ow, did someone kick me?” Cesc looked up, and Cristiano stared back innocently. 

 

Iker looked confused. “Sorry, it must have been me by accident.” 

 

“Sometimes Iker loses control of his limbs,” Cristiano explained. 

 

“Oh.” Cesc’s brow furrowed. “That sounds serious.” 

 

“It is. Very serious.” Cristiano continued to chew his breakfast with that smug asshole grin. Iker elbowed him in the side, and he stopped. “Okay,” he said slowly as he finished his last pancake, “I can tell I’m making you uncomfortable.” He reached over to ruffle Cesc’s hair. “I do that to people sometimes. So I’m just going to find Fabio and fuck around. Catch you later, yeah?” 

 

Iker nodded, watching Cesc carefully from across the table. Cesc stared pointedly down at his breakfast. 

 

“Does he make you uncomfortable?” 

 

Cesc shrugged. “Yeah, but it’s not a problem. I mean, we’re on the same team. It’s not like I can’t stand him or something. I think he seems cool. Kind of a dick, but cool, you know?” 

 

“He _is_ kind of a dick, but he’s probably the best friend I’ll ever have.” Iker remembered how Cristiano had pulled him into a hug when he’d cried, and almost winced at how much that meant to him. Sometimes small actions carried so much weight that they just _hurt_. 

 

Cesc looked up shyly. “Kind of funny how that works out.” 

 

“Yeah, things are funny like that.” 

 

It was quiet for a long time and Cesc was just starting to settle into the comfortable silence when Iker broke it, saying, “So, did you need help with anything this morning or did you just want to take a break and start later? I know we’re doing math after school, so if there’s anything else....?” 

 

Cesc, getting the panicked feeling that Iker would walk away if he didn’t ask him for help on something, said, “Yeah, I’ve got an english thing due in, like, an hour, and I haven’t done it.” 

 

“Yikes,” Iker said mildly. He poured syrup on his pancakes and licked the stickiness off his fingers. Cesc watched unabashedly. “What’s it on?” 

 

“It’s a group project. We just have to come in with a few things written down about what our lines mean. I guess. I’ve got the easiest part because everyone in my group thinks I’m stupid and unreliable.” 

 

Cesc smiled like it wasn’t a big deal. When he said things, he didn’t complain about them, and Iker liked that. He seemed to discover everything with a childlike curiosity, poking at them until they sprang up in his face, and then he would just laugh. 

 

“I know you’re not stupid.” Iker licked his finger again because it was still sticky, and he thought he saw something change in Cesc’s expression, but he told himself it was nothing. “I can’t really say anything about the unreliable part, but whatever.” He shrugged. “You don’t have to be the perfect student. It’s not like your whole life is down the drain if you get a B in english.” 

 

“C,” Cesc said quietly. “I have a C.” 

 

“Oh, then you’re fucked,” Iker joked, but Cesc didn’t laugh. 

 

“I know,” he said a little miserably, but he didn’t dwell on it. He tugged the poetry book out of his backpack and set it on the table, refusing to meet Iker’s eyes. “Here are my lines--” 

 

“No, shut up a second. You know you’re going to be fine, right?” Iker took the book from him as Cesc continued to try to read. “No, shut up. I’m being serious here. You don’t have to be a straight A student. That doesn’t make you stupid. And just because you’re not jumping to kill yourself with work doesn’t make you unreliable. So what if you get a C?” 

 

“Yeah,” Cesc said with a little laugh under his breath. “Easy for you to say. Your grades are perfect, you’re perfect, even your fucking friends are perfect. Everything in your life is just. Perfect. And I’m disorganized and falling apart wherever I go.” 

 

Iker’s expression softened, and he opened the book back up. He looked down at the poem on the page because he couldn’t meet Cesc’s gaze. He remembered all the times when he had been the farthest from perfect imaginable, one time in particular gnawing away at him, and almost smiled for Cesc’s innocence. 

 

“I didn’t mean it--” 

 

“No, I know Cesc. Please never apologize for lashing out at me.” He offered the younger boy a half-smile. Cesc was too young to understand that people who seemed perfect on the outside were normally train wrecks on the inside. “Friends do that.” 

 

We’re friends?” The hope in Cesc’s voice made Iker feel sick, but he nodded anyway. 

 

“Of course.” 

 

Cesc tried to cover his smile by grabbing the book, saying, “It’s these two...” He flipped the page again and his smile intensified. “I am not jealous/ of what came before me.” 

 

+ 

 

sergiofuckingramos: sooooooooo done with today 

sergiofuckingramos: why weren’t you in class? 

nando_torres: sick :( and too much work so I just stayed in bed 

sergiofuckingramos: :( yeah, juan said you didn’t look too good this morning 

nando_torres: lmao you and juan talk now?? 

sergiofuckingramos: idk I just asked how you were 

nando_torres: i didn’t even know you knew we were roommates 

sergiofuckingramos: ofc i know you’re roommates 

sergiofuckingramos: you know my roommate too it’s not thAt weird 

nando_torres: no I’m just pleasantly surprised 

sergiofuckinramos: well I’m glad I was able to make your day, douchedick 

nando_torres: douchedick? 

sergiofuckingramos: I think Cris coined the phrase 

nando_torres: are you guys talking now? 

sergiofuckingramos: nope... idk it used to be me and him were closer and he and iker were friends but not as close as we were, know what I mean? And suddenly they’re all buddy-buddy and it pisses me the fuck off 

nando_torres: jealous then? 

sergiofuckingramos: nO fuck you 

nando_torres: :( i’m sick. be nice to me. 

sergiofuckingramos: I’ll bring you dinner okay? 

nando_torres: THANK YOU 

sergiofuckingramos: feel better 

nando_torres: you too 

nando_torres: no wait I don’t know why i just said that. it’s like that uncomfortable moment at the movies where they say “enjoy your movie” and I say “you too” god i’m weird okay bye 

sergiofuckingramos: jesus christ you’re adorable 

sergiofuckingramos has logged off 12:30 pm 

 

+ 

 

They had time at the end of math to work on homework when it happened. Cristiano was staring thoughtfully at the back of Leo’s head, contemplating whether doing his homework was more or less boring than throwing scraps of paper at his gnome when Mesut ran in, out of breath and looking panicked. He handed Mr. Cruyff a slip of paper from the office. 

 

“What’s this?” he barked. 

 

“A-a slip. Sir. I intern in the office. I--” Mesut cut off weakly, and Cristiano immediately felt bad for him. He was a freshman who Cristiano had immediately taken a liking to and seeing him under fire wasn’t pleasant. He offered up an encouraging smile. “It’s for Cristiano. I’m supposed to deliver it to him.” 

 

“Then deliver it to him.” Mr. Cruyff returned to his papers with a loud sigh like it was exceedingly painful for him to be torn from his grading. 

 

Mesut crossed the room and handed the paper to Cristiano. “You’re supposed to come down to the office now. Like. Now.” He gave Cristiano a meaningful look halfway to pitying and Cristiano felt a dull sort of panic at the base of his spine. 

 

He picked up his backpack and stood up to follow Mesut. Leo shot him a questioning glance, whispering, “Where are you going?” He just shrugged back and Leo returned to throwing him a hostile glare. 

 

“Any idea what this is about?” Cristiano asked as he followed Mesut to the office. He felt his hands tremble, and he angrily told himself to stop. It wasn’t like the day his father died. It wasn’t like that at all. Everyone was fine. His mother promised everyone would be fine if he left. She _promised_. 

 

Mesut shook his head. “I don’t really know, but I know it’s something important. They told me to run and get you there as soon as possible.” 

 

He paused at the door to the main office and smiled at Cristiano. “I’m sure everything is fine.” 

 

The door opened and the heat of the office spilled out into the hallway. Mr. Mourinho was standing in the doorway with a grave expression. “Cristiano. Good. We need to have a talk.” 

 

+ 

 

paleplumpass: where have you been? you going to be at dinner? 

paleplumpass: if you are, come sit with me and xabi b/c we’re going over bio 

CR7 is offline at 3:20 pm. Send offline messages? 

 

+ 

 

Andres was panicked. It was right after school and he was sitting down trying to start his homework early before he had to burrow back in his bed to avoid Xavi when Xavi himself walked in, plopped down at his desk, and stared at Andres until he stopped working. Now they were having a strange sort of staring contest and Andres’s hands were sweaty. He _hated_ sweaty hands. 

 

“So uhm...” He trailed off. There was nothing to say. He just hated the silence more than empty words that filled the silence. 

 

“So uhm... what?” Xavi sat back in his chair like the whole thing was amusing to him. “Andres,” he said like he was testing out the word, rolling it around on his tongue for the first time, and tasting everything that it meant. 

 

“So all of a sudden I-I’m Andres?” 

 

“Have you not always been Andres?” 

 

He shrugged. “Not to you.” 

 

Xavi imitated his shrug. “Yeah, but your name has still always been Andres. It’s not like suddenly I can call you Lusty Tush and that’s magically your legal name.” 

 

Andres almost smiled. “True.” 

 

The other boy’s gaze seemed to intensify. “Why are you nervous around me?” He wasn’t one to beat around the bush. If he had a question, he asked it. If he didn’t have anything to say, he stayed silent. Though, unfortunately for 90% of the human population, he normally had something to say. 

 

“I-I-- what? W-why would you say I’m nervous around you?” His hands were sweating even more. _Fuck_. 

 

“Because you stumble over your words, you keep wiping your hands on your pants, you hide under your covers and pretend to sleep when I walk in the room, you pretend to take like three showers a day because you know I won’t walk in when you’re taking a shower.... I’m just starting to wonder if you hate me.” 

 

“That’s funny. I-I was wondering the same thing when you called me Andrew for all that time.” 

 

Xavi smiled. “Well played, Andres.” 

 

“I-I didn’t play anything.” 

 

Xavi just laughed and turned back to his desk. Andres was tiny and pale and sweet, stumbling over his words, and fucking hiding under his covers and, god, he was just so adorable. There was nothing Xavi could do about the terrifying plummeting feeling. It was something he experienced before and he knew exactly where it was headed. 

 

The last time he was in love, he got four years of being ignored, an outcast, alone. This time he was going to keep his distance from the person he was growing to love. 

 

When Andres spoke to him later, he snapped a reply and told _Andrew_ to find someone else to bother. 

 

+ 

 

ricky_kaka: Excuse me? Am I working this thing right? 

messiah: ye 

messiah: ah 

ricky_kaka: I’m not sure what you’re trying to accomplish by writing that in two messages, but I appreciate you answering me. By the way, is that really your username? I’m not sure if it’s really the right thing. I know it’s a play on words and everything, but claiming to be the messiah really isn’t something to joke about. 

messiah: well fuck me sideways 

messiah: ricky getting offended over something to do with religion? nO WAY 

ricky_kaka: I do believe you’re being sarcastic. 

messiah: I do believe you’re right 

ricky_kaka: Would you like to come over later? I’m going to be out until late, working in the cafeteria with the Bible Study Group I formed here. We’ve decided to pull an all-nighter going through the Gospels. I need someone to feed my fish because I’m worried Peter and Paul will try to eat rocks if they’re not fed. 

messiah: who’s in your bsg? 

ricky_kaka: Jesus Navas and he got a few of his friends to join 

messiah: the dumb ones? 

ricky_kaka: fernando llorente, javi martinez, iker muniain, marco reus, and mario something? 

messiah: so, yeah, the dumb ones. 

ricky_kaka: they’re not dumb, leo. Don’t be rude. 

messiah: everyone fawns over llorente it’s fucking disgusting 

ricky_kaka: Leo, please. Can you feed Peter and Paul? 

messiah: Yes, I will feed your biblical fish. Get thee gone, Satan. 

ricky_kaka: Leo. Not something to joke about. 

ricky_kaka has logged off 4:27 pm 

 

messiah has sent you offline messages 4:28 pm: 

messiah: who said I was joking 

 

+ 

 

The room was dark when Iker entered. Sergio wasn’t back yet, and Iker knew he probably wouldn’t be back for awhile. Lately he’d been staying out until Iker’s normal shower time, slipped in when Iker wasn’t there, and pretended to be sleeping when he returned. 

 

Iker left the lights off and felt his way over to his bed. He collapsed on it and groaned into his pillow for the feeling of it finally, finally being time to close his eyes. He tried not to think about Sergio. He tried really, really hard. Then he tried not to think about David. And then somehow Cesc got tossed into the mix and Iker was confused. 

 

Then the light flicked on next to Sergio’s bed. Iker stiffened, chiding himself for not realizing Sergio was there. For the first time in weeks, he spoke to the other boy directly: “Do you mind shutting that off, Sergio?” 

 

Silence answered him, and a shiver ran down his spine. He ignored it. Probably just Sergio being a dick. He snuggled into his pillow again, blowing out a sigh. 

 

“It’s not Sergio,” someone answered quietly in a voice Iker recognized immediately, even after years of not speaking. 

 

He sat up quickly, his eyes going wide. “Xavi?” 

 

“Surprised you still remember my name. You’re all high and mighty now. So _popular_. So well-loved.” There was a twisting, mocking smile. 

 

“Don’t be like that,” Iker managed to choke out, his voice sounding breathless, like someone had punched him in the gut. “Come on, Xavi. Don’t. Don’t do that.” 

 

The other boy smiled his bitter smile again and leaned against the wall. He played with something on his wrist Iker didn’t remember being there before. “Aren’t you going to ask why I’m here?” 

 

Iker sighed and fell back against his own wall. “The pleasure of my company?” 

 

“Yeah.” He paused. “Not so much. I was thinking about courage, and how you never used to have any, and how badly that hurt me. You hurt me, you know. In ways you can’t possibly imagine.” 

 

Something twisted in Iker’s chest and in his head he was a freshman again, playing with Xavi on the field, laughing and talking about their chances of making the first team, desperate for a chance to play, running through the grass and gripping hands as they fell, legs tangling and foreheads smacking. 

 

“...And now I don’t have the courage to do-- something. And I’m terrified of what it will do to him. I just. I don’t want to hurt anyone like you hurt me, Iker, because that was wrong. That was--” His voice was desperate like he was honestly begging Iker for help just as he was accusing and condemning him. 

 

“I know,” Iker cut in quietly. “God, I know. I know what I did. I’m sorry. I apologized a thousand times, but I don’t know if you ever really heard me.” 

 

And then he was back in the locker room again on that night and he was remembering Xavi staring at him before he moved in for the hurried, eager kiss. He remembered the look in both their eyes when they realized what was going on. He remembered Xavi begging him afterwards, _“I can’t keep this a secret anymore. Please Iker. Please can’t we tell someone.”_

 

Xavi looked down at his hands, and Iker had a feeling he was remembering the same thing. “Why couldn’t you have just done it, Iker? Why couldn’t you have just not been ashamed? Why couldn’t we have just told people what I-- what we were.” He stopped suddenly and Iker had the panicked feeling that he would see Xavi break down like he had never seen before. Xavi didn’t break down. He just didn’t. 

 

He didn’t even break down when Iker told him no, when Iker had yelled it in his face because he was so terrified of what he was. Xavi didn’t back down then either. He just turned to yell back at Iker until both of them were red in the face, and then they were kissing again, and Xavi was screaming, slamming his fist into the locker inches from Iker’s face, begging him to just not be ashamed, and then. That was when Iker had spoken the words he was most sorry for. Anything he had said to David was forgivable. What he had said to Xavi so many years ago was far from it. 

 

_“I should be ashamed of what I am, and so should you. We’re abominations the both of us and we should never tell anyone. They’re right to hate us. They’re right to be disgusted.”_  

 

Iker’s skin crawled with the memory of his former self, his fists clenching at his sides. And then Xavi was talking again, and Iker was sweating like he had a fever: “I wouldn’t have been so alone all this time. But that’s not the point. I met someone now, but I make him feel like shit, and I just need to let go of all this. I just came to say that I hate you. I have never wanted anyone to suffer as much as I have wanted you to suffer, Iker, but that’s just what love does to people. I used to love you and not anymore, and I just needed to tell you that to realize it myself.” 

 

Iker felt something hot on his cheek. He was crying and he hadn’t realized it. Xavi was staring at him with no pity, and he felt like crawling into his own skin and hiding or dying or just hibernating for the next three centuries. 

 

“You cannot possibly understand how much I hate myself--” 

 

“I can actually. You made me feel the same exact way, Iker. So I can understand exactly what you’re feeling. That’s the feeling of you not being as perfect as everyone treats you. That’s the crushing weight of reality on your shoulders, and I hope it feels fucking terrible.” 

 

Another tear escaped, and Iker nodded, accepting his words, and knowing he deserved them. He wanted to tell Xavi that sometimes people make mistakes-- actually most of time they do, and he fucked up big time and he was a kid back then, just a kid with a terrifying secret. He bit his lip to steady himself before saying, “I am sorry. For everything. I’m really sorry.” 

 

“I know you are.” Xavi was standing near the door, his hand on the doorknob when he turned around, and the anger melted from his features. “I hope you’re happy. In the future, I mean. I hope you find your Andrew.” 

 

Before Iker could ask what he meant, he was gone. 

 

Xavi felt lighter than he had in awhile; Iker felt the weight of the world on his shoulders, the guilt pressing down on his chest, and he buried his head in his pillow again to sob until he heard Sergio at the door. 

 

+ 

 

d_becks: Iker, are you doing alright? I heard about what’s going on with Cristiano and I wanted to make sure you two are doing okay with it 

paleplumpass: what the hell are you talking about? What’s going on with Cris? I haven’t seen him all day 

d_becks: Talk to him. 

d_becks has logged off 8:30 pm 

 

stevie_g: we haven’t talked in a few days. how are u? thought we needed to talk???? 

ginger_x: yeah I have a ton of studying right now though 

ginger_x: let’s restart football next week and we can talk then 

ginger_x has logged off 8:45 pm 

 

sex_flabbergast: WE TALKED TODAY AND IT WAS AMAZING AND HE SAID WE’RE FRIENDS 

piqueton: GOOD WHY ARE YOU IN ALL CAPS DID YOU BREAK YOUR CAPS LOCK AGAIN??? 

sex_flabbergast: NO I’M JUST REALLY EXCITED 

piqueton: THIS IS HOW YOU BROKE IT LAST TIME 

sex_flabbergast: I KNOW BUT IT WILL BE WORTH IT BECAUSE IKER IS TUTORING ME 

piqueton: CAN WE STOP WITH THE CAPS LOCK 

sex_flabbergast: iker is tutoring me (imagine me shouting this) 

piqueton: good (imagine me not giving a shit) 

sex_flabbergast: :( BE HAPPY FOR YOUR DEAR FRIEND 

piqueton: you’re a cock 

sex_flabbergast: love u too 

piqueton: come on a run with me tomorrow after school? 

sex_flabbergast: can’t. iker is tutoring me i’m sorry 

piqueton: that’s okay 

piqueton: gotta go tho talk later 

piqueton has logged off 9:02 pm 

 

+ 

 

Leo walked with a bounce in his step to Ricky’s room. It wasn’t that he wanted to see Cristiano because he still hated him, but something was different between them, and it made him happy to fight with him. He decided that sometimes you were just destined to hate people and that was why it felt so good. 

 

He opened the door without knocking wearing a huge obnoxious grin-- and stopped short. Cristiano was sitting on his bed, head in his hands. Crying. Actual honest to god tears. He didn’t make a sound when he cried. He cried in that silent way like he was gathering all the hurt he had ever felt and crying for not just something in that moment, but crying for all the moments that had ever broken him in irreparable ways. 

 

Leo’s mouth practically dropped. “A-are you okay? Cris. I--” 

 

At the sound of Leo’s voice, his face cleared. All emotion disappeared, but there was something heartbreaking boiling in his eyes. “I’m fine.” His hands were balled into fists at his sides like he was about to start crying again at any moment. 

 

“You’re obviously not fine. Cris-- I.” He stopped short again, and there was nothing else he really had to say, but he went on anyway. “I know we’ve had our differences, but if you’re upset, it’s something else entirely. I’m not going to tell anyone I saw you cry or whatever.” 

 

“Gee, thanks, Leo. What a treat. You doing me favors. Couldn’t have asked for a better end to this day. Pass my regards on to your parents. Thank the fucking lord of light they decided to fuck the day you were conceived. You’re just a precious gift to humanity, aren’t you?” 

 

It would have made Leo upset any other day, but he just approached Ricky’s bed and sat down across from Cristiano. They were far apart, on different beds, on different sides of the room, but he felt like he was somehow comforting the other boy anyway. Or. That’s what he wanted to think. 

 

“What happened?” 

 

Cristiano rubbed at his eye roughly. “Nothing.” 

 

“Seriously. What happened?” 

 

“I said nothing.” 

 

“Fine. If you don’t want to talk about it, don’t. But I’m fucking trying to help you here. Maybe if you didn’t push people away all the time, you wouldn’t be alone crying in your room. Maybe someone would actually be here for--” 

 

Just then, the door slammed open violently and Iker appeared. He rushed to Cristiano’s side before looking up to find Leo there. “What are you doing here?” 

 

“I--” He stole a glance at Cristiano who was looking increasingly closer to bursting into tears the longer Iker was staying in the room. “I just have to feed Peter and Paul.” 

 

He was about to correct himself, say, _I meant Ricky’s fish. Not people. His fish._ But Cristiano sniffled and said, “I fed them myself. Ricky’s always worried about them, so I just fed them early. He has his first Bible Study thing in the cafeteria until late tonight.” 

 

“Oh.” Leo looked around blankly. “Then I should--” He was out the door before he finished the sentence. 

 

Iker turned back to Cristiano, gripped his shoulders and shook him a little. “What’s wrong, huh?” Cristiano just shook his head, mouthed the same “nothing” he gave Leo. “No, Cris. You need to tell me what’s wrong right now.” 

 

And then tears were spilling over his eyes and he was speaking quietly, his words hardly impaired, and it was like he wasn’t crying at all, just water spilling out of his eyes and the occasional pause between words. “It’s my mom and my brother. My mom has been going through chemo these past few months and she didn’t even tell me. I didn’t even know she was sick. She didn’t want me to--” 

 

He cut off and Iker patted his shoulder unconvincingly. God, he sucked at comforting people, but it wasn’t for lack of caring. 

 

Cristiano took a deep breath. “She just didn’t want me to worry, and my brother’s back in the hospital because he overdosed and--” He put his head in his hands. “I just want them to be okay. I would take every ounce of pain they feel and put it on myself. Every bit of it. Why can’t I just take their pain from them? I just want them to feel better.” 

 

Iker put his arm around his friend. “I know. I know. It’s going to be okay...” 

 

+ 

 

ginger_x: are you and alex together? 

stevie_g: we were 

ginger_x: and? 

stevie_g: she’s just a really, really good friend and the sweetest girl I’ve ever met 

stevie_g: I love her like a sister 

ginger_x: oh 

stevie_g: why? you have a thing for her? 

ginger_x: no, I have a thing for someone else 

stevie_g: and who might that be? 

ginger_x: I’m heading out to play football. fuck homework. you in? 

ginger_x logged off 10:47 pm 

 

+ 

 

They were laying stretched out on the grass when Steven breathed a heavy sigh. He pulled something out of his pocket and sat up. “I need you to not say something for a few minutes, Xabi. Okay? I have something important to say. I--” He faltered and blushed. “I wrote something for you.” 

 

Xabi slowly sat up, suspicion gathering in his eyes. “You what?” 

 

“What did I say about shutting the fuck up, Xabi?” moaned Steven, but there was a nervous quality to his voice Xabi had never heard before. 

 

_Okay, okay_ , Xabi mouthed, and he sat back. 

 

Steven opened the flimsy, torn up piece of binder paper, and it flapped in the breeze. He cleared his throat. “Xabi, the truth is normally like a punch in the gut, but I hope the truth I’m about to tell you isn’t like that. I don’t want to hurt you, ever, even if it’s just the truth. That’s why I’ve been keeping this a secret from you for so long. Because I never want to hurt you, ever. --Shit I already said that-- The truth is that you’re my best friend, but it’s not just that. I-I love you. I have loved you for as long as I can remember, and I had to write it down on some stupid paper because I can’t just blurt out the perfect words like you can. Xabi, I love you, and there’s not much more I can say because I was hoping to kiss you after this and let that do the talking for me.” 

 

There was a hopeful light in Xabi’s eyes, and suddenly he was leaning over Steven and pressing their lips together, and speaking against the kiss, saying, “You’re a dumb shit.” 

 

“Does that mean you love me too?” Steven asked, half-pouty, half smiling because he already knew the answer. 

 

“It means I love you like there is nothing in the world I’d rather be doing. It means I love you like this moment in time is the only moment I can exist in ever. It means you’re the best thing I’ve ever encountered and everything else is just a disappointment. And it also means fuck you for not telling me sooner.” 

 

They kissed until their hair was full of grass and their tongues full of promises waiting to be made. They said goodnight at Xabi’s room, and went to sleep with the taste of each other on their lips. 

 

+ 

 

Sergio returned to his room to find it empty. He frowned. It was 1:00 am and Iker wasn’t back yet? What the actual shit. The light was still on, his computer was still open, the sink was even running in the bathroom with Iker’s toothbrush and toothpaste out. 

 

Sergio wasn’t trying to be a nosy shit, but he also wasn’t trying to fight his personality, and besides, he was just looking out for Iker even if they were ex-friends. What if he had gone missing or something? What if he was stealing food from the kitchen again? He was looking more plump than usual... 

 

Sergio nodded and mentally congratulated himself on finding a great excuse for reading his friend’s messages. _Ex-friend’s_ messages. 

 

He scrolled through a few of the contacts, thought about stopping on his conversation with Cristiano, but he knew reading that would only make him more jealous, and Fernando more right. Not that he minded making Fernando right. Fernando was happy when he was right, but Sergio hated being jealous. He had nothing to be jealous of, and he _certainly_ did not miss his old friends. 

 

He was about to give up and declare Iker even more boring than before when he came across a certain d_becks. Like. Mr. Beckham? Sergio thought about it... he thought about it for a good thirty seconds at least. 

 

“Bless me father for I am about to sin.” 


	8. Field Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cristiano needs to find a way out of school. Ricky's study group is going on a field trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't kill me for the cliffhanger.

Cristiano was deflated for the entire next week because 1.) his situation was just generally shit and 2.) they didn’t have a travel request on record in the office for him, so he wasn’t allowed to leave until his mother sent one over. Which she was a little too busy to do, as he not-exactly-politely pointed out. 

 

“Can’t your father send it?” someone in the front office had asked, and Cristiano’s face fell into a stony glare. He had turned on his heel and walked until he was on the opposite side of campus, late for his next class, and nowhere close to tears. 

 

As he took his place in math fifteen minutes late, he decided he needed a plan. A good plan. Like a foolproof one. He thought about going to David because David snuck _everyone_ out of school, but there was no way he could sneak out of school unnoticed for as long as he needed to be away for. He needed a few days, and David could only buy him a few hours. 

 

He needed-- 

 

Leo approached Mr. Cruyff’s desk and politely cleared his throat. “I was just wondering if I could get the homework for next week? I’m going to be gone the whole week for a field trip.” 

 

Mr. Cruyff smiled back brightly. “Of course, Leo. I have a few other students going, so I’ll just post that on the class page and email you a link so you don’t miss it. If your work is a little late, don’t even worry about it.” 

 

Cristiano almost gagged. 

 

“What field trip are you going on?” Cruyff leaned forward to listen to his favorite student’s reply. Someone in the front of the room moaned about the homework and he didn’t even look up to shout at them. It was _truly love._

 

Leo took back his notebook and grinned. “Oh, it’s a Bible Study thing. We’re flying out to this convention. One of my friends planned it all out. He’s really into this sort of stuff and he’s been dragging the rest of us into it.” 

 

“That’s lovely.” Cruyff removed his glasses to wipe them on his shirt, smiling and nodding like he just heard the voice of God. “That is _really_ lovely, Leo.” 

 

Cristiano watched the conversation, half-annoyed, half-distracted by the wheels turning in his head, and then-- 

 

He stood up so suddenly a book fell off his desk. He paid it no attention and approached his teacher’s desk. “Uh, Mr. Cruyff, I just wanted to let you know that I’m also going on the field trip. So. I won’t be here either.” 

 

Mr. Cruyff sat back in his chair, exchanging a quick look with Leo. “Is this a joke?” 

 

“No, I’m afraid not, sir. I’m devastated to be missing a few days of class, but--” He shrugged. “If it’s for my man JC, I have to follow my heart to...wherever the hell this shindig is.” He looked at Leo who was shaking his head very slowly like _fuck, fuck, no please God no_. 

 

_Sorry_ , he mouthed back, but he wasn’t. Not even a little bit. 

 

CR7: got my ticket outta here 

paleplumpass: ??? HOW 

CR7: you know how they said they couldn’t release me b/c of safety blah blah blah no file on record?? 

paleplumpass: yeah 

CR7: well you know what kind of file they DO have on record for me? 

paleplumpass: no but I’m waiting in anticipation for you to tell me 

CR7: field trip mothafucka 

paleplumpass: YESSS where we goin 

CR7: well, right now the flyer says we’re going to portland oregon but give me a few hours and we’ll be on a plane to the land of my people in no time 

paleplumpass: wait what field trip is this? and how are you going to change where we’re going?? dumbass it’s not going to work 

CR7: religious sumthin 

CR7: w/ ricky and that absolute cock 

paleplumpass: ah leo? 

CR7: yeah but we’re just going to have to suck it up and go okay wait just talk to me at lucnh can’t be late again 

 

It took him approximately twenty-seven seconds to find Iker in the lunch line. He was at the very front, holding up the entire line, looking down at the mush of potatoes and broccoli on his plate with a lost puppy sort of look. 

 

“I...I don’t understand. I thought it was pizza day.” 

 

The lunch lady snorted and slapped down more potato mush. “Budget cut, sweetie. You don’t pay me enough, I give you steamed broccoli mush.” 

 

“I...but.... pizza.” 

 

Cristiano sighed loudly and grabbed Iker’s arm as he stuffed down the cash. “God, your obsession with pizza is almost as pathetic as Sergio drooling over Fernando’s ass.” 

 

“Woah. Way to introduce _that._ ” He peered over at Sergio’s end of the table where he was not-so-subtly checking out Fernando Torres. “And is it really too much to ask for? A little pizza? Really? Fridays are pizza days. Everyone knows that. Not fucking--” He set down his tray and lowered his voice. “--broccoli mush days. Goddamn.” 

 

Cristiano laughed, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes, and that wasn’t the sort of thing Iker missed. Sometimes he didn’t say anything about that sort of stuff because he was like Cristiano in the respect that other people’s problems were just that-- their problems. It wasn’t Iker’s problem to fix them. But, at the same time, the two of them lacked the Sergio type friend who just waltzed in and demanded to know what was up, not because they were nosy, but because they _cared_. 

 

Iker gave up on his food and slid the tray aside. “So tell me about this field trip thing. How are we going to turn the field trip into a family visit?” 

 

Cristiano’s face lit up marginally. “Okay, so the church I used to go to all the time with my family is all broken down and in shambles and shitty and stuff, you know?” 

 

Iker nodded, a little stab of guilt in his chest. He had always been fortunate, had always had food on the table. He was lucky to have both his parents, his brother, pretty much his whole family still living and at his side. It wasn’t like they lived far away like Cristiano’s did, and he certainly wasn’t at the school on scholarship. 

 

Cristiano grinned. “Well. Ricky is into doing all this repair work, so I called the church, did all that disguising my voice stuff and they still recognized me, which sucked, but that’s okay because it worked out in our favor.” 

 

“How?” 

 

Cristiano made an excited expression like, _just wait until you hear what I’ve come up with_. “I asked them if they needed any repair work done and if we could come and work out blah blah blah, etc, whatever, and long story short-- they said they would love it.” 

 

“And how are you going to convince Ricky of this?” 

 

Cristiano sipped Iker’s juice innocently. “Uh-- so I maybe did a bad thing, but--” 

 

“Oh, God.” He put his head in his hands. “Just tell me. Just tell me what you did.” 

 

“I sort of searched Ricky’s stuff for the information, called them, did a very good impression of his voice-- like it was seriously spot on-- and uh, canceled.” 

 

Iker stared at him in disbelief for a long, long time, and then wailed, “Oh. My. God. You’re a felon.” 

 

The other boy rolled his eyes. “I didn’t break any laws, Iker. Calm down and eat your broccoli mush.” 

 

Iker pouted. “Well have fun convincing Ricky to pick your place.” 

 

Cristiano smiled the smile that meant he was up to something. “I’ll worry about Ricky, and you worry about your mush.” 

 

+ 

 

It turned out that Ricky wasn’t all that hard to convince. He was devastated to receive the termination notice from the church in Portland and, only having a few hours to make up his mind about the rest of the trip, pounced on Cristiano’s false comfort and ingenious idea. 

 

He looked up at the other boy, his eyes almost filling with tears. “Are you sure? I mean, you honestly don’t have to offer up your church or even come on this thing. I know it’s not the sort of stuff you do... And I don’t meant to be a burden. I just...” He sniffled. “I don’t know, I worked so hard to build this group up and I wanted to make everyone happy.” 

 

Cristiano sat stiffly in his chair across the room because _oh god, oh god,_ it was his fault. “Uh, yeah, no problem,” he said softly, his stomach lurching with the sad way Ricky was staring at the ground. “Seriously, I’m happy to have us go to the church near my house. Uhm.” 

 

Ricky looked up at him expectantly. “Yeah?” 

 

Cristiano told himself to start that bit he’d practiced with the whole getting emotional thing, but he found that if he tried to make himself look sad, he was actually going to burst into tears because, okay, maybe the whole situation was weighing on him more than he even knew, and maybe he set the whole plan in motion not just because he was desperate to see his mother, but also because he was terrified of losing her too. 

 

He clasped his hands together tightly. “My mom’s sick. Not like going to die sick. She put the doctor on the phone and made me talk to him because she knows how I can get. She’s going through chemo and they’re hopeful-- like, positive-- about the whole thing, but god, they told me my dad was going to live too.” 

 

And all of a sudden, it was difficult to breathe and the room was too small and Ricky was coming over to press him into a hug, but he didn’t want a hug. He wanted air and room to breathe, and he really, really didn’t want to be anywhere near Ricky because then he would have to confront that weird feeling in his chest again, that feeling where he wanted to protect Ricky and kiss him and break every inch of innocence inside him. 

 

He collapsed into the hug anyway, didn’t bother telling Ricky about the problems with his brother, and how his sister had called him crying late last night, and how, _sorry,_ but he really hadn’t had time to worry about his English homework and Zidane could suck his dick. Okay, not actually because he liked Mr. Zidane, but, seriously. No. 

 

He didn’t start one of his rants and he didn’t tell one of his jokes. He told himself it was because, _mission accomplished_ (!!!!), but in reality, he just really liked the feeling that someone cared that he was miserable and was doing everything in their power to make him feel better. But most of all, he liked that Ricky was that person. 

 

+ 

 

messiah: what the shit is the email you just sent out 

ricky_kaka: I thought it was pretty self-explanatory. We’re changing where we’re going. 

messiah: uh why 

ricky_kaka: because the other place canceled. I’m not really sure. It was weird. I just got the termination email and voicemail. 

messiah: huh that is weird w/e this one sounds like more fun anyway 

ricky_kaka: my family is donating all the money we need to go so they’re putting us up in a hotel and giving us equipment to help rebuild one of the walls of the church. It’s going to be great! 

messiah: AWEsOmeee are we still going for a week 

ricky_kaka: leo seriously why do I bother sending you these emails if you ignore them 

messiah: are we still going for a week 

ricky_kaka: Yes. 

messiah: cool so what’s the list right now 

ricky_kaka: you mean for who’s going? 

messiah: ya 

ricky_kaka: me, you, cris, iker, nando, sergio, david, javi, cesc, everyone from the bsg 

messiah: i heard cris say he was going in math but i thought he was just fuckin around 

ricky_kaka: he wasn’t. he has some stuff going on. 

messiah: yeah, so I’ve heard. what about iker? why he is he coming? 

ricky_kaka: because cris is 

messiah: and sergio? i thought he like hates iker and cris now? and what the hell i haven’t talked to nando in like two days 

ricky_kaka: sergio is going because nando is going. They’re friends now. I think it’s nice. 

messiah: fucking weird is what it is 

messiah: and uh when you say david 

messiah: you mean like silva 

messiah: the quiet one 

ricky_kaka: no i mean villa. He signed up as our senior chaperone because leader of the group can’t be chaperone and Iker didn’t sign up early enough. 

messiah: shit 

messiah: ok that’s cool 

messiah: hmk bye 

messiah has logged off 7:12 pm 

 

+ 

 

Leo was trying to stay away from his room. After finding out that David was coming on the field trip, he honestly was just good with keeping far away from him. Not only was he rude and bitchy, he was hot and always had to walk around in fucking _towels_ with no goddamn shirt on. It wasn’t a healthy combination for Leo. Bitchy he could handle. Hot, he could handle. But bitchy and hot and penetrating Leo’s personal space bubble was just-- 

 

Why did he have to use the word penetrate because now he was thinking about--

 

He sprinted to the football field to clear his mind, found a ball, and began to juggle it until he decided the rec field was kind of shitty and no one was using the other one, so. He hopped over the fence and stood in the middle of the field, wondering what it would be like to play on the team, be friends with Iker and Cristiano and not actually hated by them. 

 

He let a funny half-sigh, half-laugh, and told himself to not be ridiculous because as much as everyone adored them, that didn’t stop them from having their own set of problems. He flashed back to the image of a silently sobbing Cristiano. 

 

And then he remembered how he’d run back to his room and banged on the door until David had unlocked it. “What’s wrong?” he’d asked, but Leo wouldn’t answer, and he spent the rest of the night in a terrible mood. David brought him coffee from the vending machine, and he ignored it. He threw it away completely filled right under his nose, and David made no comment other than a muttered, “I was just trying to be nice” in a tone like he didn’t care. 

 

Leo stopped thinking. He practiced his penalties instead. It was far less painful, even when he missed. One hit the post and he swore under his breath, jogging to retrieve it. Out of the last ten, he’d scored seven, two had hit the post, and the one before last had been off target completely. He had to stop _thinking_ so much. 

 

There was a quiet laugh from the sidelines and he almost tripped trying to whip around fast enough. He glowered. Cristiano was standing there with his hands in his pockets, his eyes darker than normal. 

 

“Carry on,” he said, nodding to the goal. 

 

“Just going to stand there and watch me?” Leo was breathing hard, and he wondered if Cristiano had been there for that time he kicked himself in the ankle and went down in the mud. Cristiano nodded thoughtfully with a knowing smile like he could read the other boy’s thoughts. 

 

Leo decided to show off instead of wondering what Cristiano thought about his clumsiness. He dribbled towards the goal, and suddenly everything made sense. His problems didn’t go away, but his mind disappeared into that football only zone, and that was where everything was simple. He was good at football, god, he was so good. It was the kind of good he could feel in his bones. He didn’t doubt it for a second. 

 

He weaved around imaginary defenders, leapt over an invisible outstretched leg, and shot through the wide open legs of the fictional goalkeeper. He imagined it was Iker Casillas, and he pretended Iker wasn’t good enough to make the save. 

 

“I’ve seen you play, you know,” Leo called, checking over his shoulder first to make sure Cristiano had seen all that. He dragged the ball out of the net with his toe and placed it back in front of the goal a few yards away from the penalty spot. 

 

He took the shot and it ricocheted off the post again. He swore under his breath, praying Cristiano wouldn’t tease him about it. He was off his game. He was nervous and freaked out about his roommate situation, and more than a little thrown off by the fact that Cristiano was just standing there watching him. 

 

“I know you have. I’ve seen you too.” 

 

Leo snorted. “Yeah, right now doesn’t count.” 

 

Cristiano suppressed a smile. “Why doesn’t it count? Because you’re awful at the moment?” 

 

“No,” Leo snapped, glaring. “Because this isn’t a real game. There’s no competition. I’m better with...” He kicked at the grass. “Pressure. I’m better when there’s something to play for.” 

 

Cristiano hopped the short fence separating the bench from the field and approached Leo. “Pressure I can give you.” He smirked and Leo felt like punching him again. He opted against it because he didn’t want to have to wear that stupid mask again and technically he should actually be wearing it at least 3 hours a day, shit. 

 

Leo made a sound at the back of his throat, but he wasn’t really sure what it was supposed to mean. Maybe a challenge, maybe fear, maybe a mixture of both. 

 

“So what’s this about you having seen me play?” Cristiano flicked the ball up with his toe and caught it cleanly. 

 

“You’re good,” Leo replied sourly. 

 

“Yeah,” Cristiano agreed, but it wasn’t arrogant, and for the first time, Leo truly contemplated something other than hating the other boy with every fiber of his being. “You too, you know.” 

 

“I know that.” Leo toed the grass. “You wouldn’t.” 

 

“No, I know. You’re good. It’s true that I don’t come to your games, so I can’t really say anything about how you’re playing now, but I saw you that first time.” Something changed in Cristiano’s eyes, and Leo knew what time he was talking about. “When you tried out last year.” 

 

“You were there.” And it wasn’t a question. He’d seen him. 

 

“Course.” 

 

They didn’t speak after that, but when Cristiano dropped the ball to the pitch, there was a silent agreement. They played football for a long time after that. Lots of kicking and smacking and shoving and, by the end of it, they scored two apiece. 

 

Leo was faster over shorter distances, and Cristiano was faster over longer. Leo could outmaneuver him if he picked up the speed close to goal, but once Cristiano got started, it was like he could tear up everything in his path, like the pitch was scarred where he plowed through. 

 

After the fourth goal of their game, Leo paused the ball mid-dribble, and Cristiano started to stick his foot out, catching himself just in time. 

 

“What, quitting so soon?” He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. 

 

Leo laughed suddenly, something bubbling up in his chest nervously, something like dislike and competition and something close to crazy. “You know, I can’t hate anyone quite as spectacularly as I hate you.” 

 

Cristiano smiled and stole the ball from Leo. “Maybe,” he said, lining the ball up expertly in the dead center of the pitch, “that’s because you don’t hate me at all.” He took the shot, and it landed clean in the back of the net. 

 

“Showoff,” Leo grumbled. 

 

“You complete me,” Cristiano called as he walked away, his laughter echoing in Leo’s ears until he decided to call it a night. 

 

+ 

 

sergiofuckingramos: I HAVE A PROBLEM I’M FREAKING OUT 

nando_torres: what calm down but what 

sergiofuckingramos: I know something about Iker that I shouldn’t know and now I feel really really really really bad about our fight 

sergiofuckingramos: still hate him tho 

nando_torres: what do you know? 

sergiofuckingramos: I CAN’T TELL YOU 

sergiofuckingramos: don’t ask me again because I’m terrible at keeping secrets and I will hate myself if I end up telling you 

nando_torres: okay don’t tell me I don’t want to know, but you know Iker is coming on the bible trip thingy I’m forcing you to come on??? 

sergiofuckingramos: I KNOW I SAW THE EMAIL THAT”S WHY I’m FREKAING OuT 

nando_torres: lmao it’s okay I’ll be there ok? 

sergiofuckingramos: ok 

sergiofuckingramos: okay you’re right 

nando_torres: want to get cookies from the vending machine? 

sergiofuckingramos: yeah meet in your room 

sergiofuckingramos has logged off 10:07 pm 

 

+ 

 

Xabi was sitting with his back to Steven, reading the email about the changes to the trip, his eyes scanning over the names, resting on Iker and Cristiano with a funny shake of his head. Cristiano was always up to something and now he was dragging Iker into it too. 

 

“Going on that thing?” Steven’s hand brushed his shoulder, and Xabi leaned into the touch. There’d just been more kissing, a few more sweet words exchanged, but other than that, their relationship remained unchanged. It felt unchanged. They were friends before anything and everything was built upon their friendship, and for the first time in a long time, Xabi felt secure and happy and complete. Not because someone else had completed him, but because someone else had made him see that he was already complete the way he was. 

 

“Yeah,” Xabi answered finally, and his lips brushed Steven’s cheek as the other boy leaned closer to the screen to see the list of people. “You’re not though.” He pouted. 

 

“No, and I’ll miss you, but maybe for the first time in a long time, you won’t be around to distract me.” Steven smiled and Xabi smiled too and it was like some wire was linking them, connecting them, and Xabi felt stupid for thinking it, but it didn’t feel normal and it didn’t feel wrong. It just felt like the most natural thing in the world. 

 

“Maybe you’ll pull your grades up.” Xabi gave him a look. 

 

“Fuck off about my grades, would you? I’ve already decided I’m going to be mediocre and I’m proud of it. I’m sorry you’re perfect, but I’m not, and I’m okay with that.” He sat back on Xabi’s bed and stared up at him. “Now come here and kiss me.” 

 

Xabi stood up, nervously stood in front of the door to make sure no one was coming, and then joined Steven on the bed, kissing him sweetly until cheeks were pink and breathing was heavy. Soon after, there was a knock on the door, careful and quiet and sounding all too much like a warning for Steven to even ask if Esteban knew. 

 

After the arrival of Esteban, Steven and Xabi sat far apart, but every so often, they looked up at each other. Sometimes when the other was looking, but more often, not, thinking about how much they would miss each other. 

 

“It’s only a week,” Xabi said later, out of the blue, and Esteban looked confused. He put in his headphones. “It’s only a week,” Xabi repeated, more quietly this time, and Esteban turned away. 

 

“I know,” Steven replied, and he shook his head like there was something gnawing away at him, like it was trying to burst out of him, but he didn’t want to say it. Finally, he looked at Xabi very thoughtfully and said, “I really like you. Like. Really. A lot. It’s hard to say it in words, but I think you know what I mean.” 

 

Xabi nodded, mouthed _me too_. 

 

+ 

 

The next three days passed by in no time. Iker was busy with classes. He didn’t see much of Sergio, but when he did, Sergio was even weirder than what had become normal. Sometimes he caught Sergio just staring at him with this strange look like anger, pity, disgust, hatred-- Iker couldn’t even name all the emotions he saw Sergio go through on a daily basis. But he was busy and upset, and so he said nothing. 

 

When the time came to load up the bus for the trip, he did so gladly. No more sharing a room with Sergio for a week. He’d made arrangements to share a room with Cristiano at the hotel, and he was much happier. Cristiano wouldn’t be giving him those weird looks, almost like he knew something. 

 

But that was just Iker’s guilt playing tricks on his mind. He ignored it. 

 

They loaded up the bus without much difficulty and they were all sitting in their seats when Javi came running up with his bag, wailing about how he’d forgotten his shampoo and “I HAD TO RUN ALL THE WAY BACK FOR MY SHAMPOO” and Iker could have sworn he said “shampoo” seventy thousand times before he actually got on the bus and plopped down in a row by himself. 

 

Iker put in his headphones and continued to ignore Sergio’s strange stares. 

 

CR7: the fuck is up w/ sergio 

paleplumpass: GOOD it’s not just me noticing it 

CR7: obvious as hell 

paleplumpass: ugh kill me 

CR7: ew look at him with that freckled assfuck 

paleplumpass: what do you have against fernando 

CR7: they’re disgusting 

paleplumpass: i know i miss him too 

CR7: shut up i don’t miss him 

paleplumpass: mHm 

 

CR7: where my bitch at i miss u 

cuntrao: changed my url look i’m going for a more simplistic look 

CR7: ok 

cuntrao: i really like simplicity i think it’s beautiful 

CR7: are u on crack 

cuntrao: nooooo i’m just running on 2 hours of sleep from the past two nights 

cuntrao: nights 

cuntrao: 2 ho

CR7: who u callin a ho 

cuntrao: my finger sleeped i’m sorry 

cuntrao: slipped 

cuntrao: oh god sleep just let me sleep 

CR7: make it through the rest of the day u can do this i’m prayin 4 u 

cuntrao: have fun w/ ur bible sex 

CR7: ? 

cuntrao: i don’t know why i said that 

cuntrao: I meant bible study group 

cuntrao: I just 

cuntrao: sleep 

cuntrao has logged off 5:16 pm 

 

Their chaperone was Pep, so he just sat in the front minding his own business, occasionally turning around to give someone a sheepish smile and an apologetic “Sh, please” if they started screaming at the top of their lungs. He did it several times and no one paid him any attention except for Javi who just laughed along and nodded. 

 

David was sitting at the back of the bus, encouraging the noise level to go up, and he really was the worst chaperone ever, as Leo sourly pointed out, but also the best. Like. The best. 

 

“I’m splitting the groups. If you don’t like your group, I don’t fucking care. If you have a genuine complaint about your group, I don’t fucking care. If Pep is about to tell me to stop saying fuck, I don’t fucking care.” He smiled at Pep and gave him a friendly, almost mocking nod. 

 

“Okay,” Pep agreed, turning back around in his seat to chat with the bus driver. 

 

“We got rooms on the first and second floors. Group one is on the first floor. Group two is on the second floor.” Javi raised his hand, and David just glared back at him stonily. “Group one is on the first floor. Group 2 is on the second floor,” he repeated, gritting his teeth. 

 

“Yeah, but is there a third group?” 

 

David looked away. “Someone tell him to shut up.” 

 

“Shut up,” Iker supplied helpfully, giving Javi a friendly pat on the arm. 

 

Javi nodded. “Yeah, that’s probably best.” He turned to stare out the window. “Guys, I was really looking forward to driving through a safari. I wanted to see moose.” 

 

Iker stared blankly out at the scenery outside his window. “What the fuck is he talking about.” 

 

“Safaris and moose,” Cristiano answered without looking up from his phone. “Obviously.” 

 

“I’ve always liked rats because of the way they eat cheese toes.” 

 

Iker was both outraged and terrified. “The fuck are cheese toes.” 

 

“You know, those little...” He drifted off and started dancing around, pointing to his headphones. “Best ever, wow. So glad we got to take this sabbatical. Das guten. Das very guten.” 

 

+ 

 

Group One was gathered in David’s room. He was their chaperone and Group Two was chaperoned by Pep. They were both equally lenient, but David would actually partake in the mischief, while Pep just sat back and quietly protested. 

 

David took a head count, wrote “yeah” on the yellow paper for attendance, and stuffed it into his back pocket messily. He surveyed the group and gave a little nod. “Alright. So. Iker, Sergio, Cris, Leo, Fernando, Ricky, Xabi, Cesc, and me. We all have who we’re rooming with? Iker and Cris, Sergio and Fernando, Leo and Ricky... which leaves Xabi, Cesc, and me. Xabi? Cesc? Neither of you put anything down for roommate.” 

 

“Yeah,” Cesc said uncertainly. “I just. Wasn’t sure what to put.” 

 

Xabi nodded in agreement. “Yeah. I’ll just room with you though, David, if that’s cool.” 

 

David moaned. “I was looking forward to having my own room away from this little shit--” He messed up Leo’s hair almost affectionately. “But I guess that’s okay. Cesc, where are you staying?” 

 

For a second, it was all quiet and Cesc had no answer, began to regret coming on the trip in the first place because he had really only come for Iker, when someone said, “He can stay with us.” 

 

It was Iker and Cesc felt like. Fuck. He felt like his whole body was on fire because he was turning pink and stammering out a thank you and rubbing the hair out of his eyes because it wouldn’t stay back and he wanted to drink in every expression Iker made. 

 

David clapped his hands together. “Okay, perfect. So.” 

 

The group was silent and David was bored. David being bored was a very bad thing. When David was bored, things tended to explode, catch fire, or randomly lose their pants. Suddenly, he lit up, “Guys, best idea ever.” 

 

They all looked up expectantly. 

 

“Truth or dare.” 


	9. Dazed and Confused and a Little Bit Lonely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They play truth or dare and deal with the aftermath of truth or dare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this when it was really late and my head hurts and (insert 700000 excuses for this sucking as bad as it does) i"m sorry please forgive me I hope next chapter will be better oh god don't lose faith in me please   
> i'm begging you   
> i'll bake you cookies pls forgive me for this

“The first part of truth or dare consists of your introduction to the system of checks and balances.” David smirked. He was enjoying his role a little too much. “You tell anyone outside of the circle what goes on this week and you fucking die.” He smiled encouragingly. 

 

Everyone’s reaction was slightly different: Leo nodded like the threat was inevitable (he knew David after all), Cristiano looked marginally less bored, Iker swallowed like he was uncomfortable, Ricky looked terrified, Cesc looked excited, and Xabi looked like they were immature and he had better things to be doing. He was, of course, correct, but that didn’t mean he was going to get up and leave. He knew there were some juicy secrets floating around, and he was only human and, by default, curious. 

 

“I’ll start then,” David said, clapping his hands together. He was more cheerful than he’d been all year. “Leo.” He gave the other boy a long look and, when Leo was on the verge of turning pink, said, “What’s your poison?” 

 

“Truth,” Leo said meekly. “To be safe.” 

 

“Not much safer,” Sergio pointed out, casually moving his shoulder closer to Fernando’s. 

 

“He’s right.” David grinned. “Sure you don’t want to change that?” Leo stared back stonily, wondering how he got roped into the godforsaken game, and then, _oh that’s right_ because he was in love with David Villa. “Last person you had a crush on.” 

 

“What, are we twelve,” groaned Xabi. “Are you kidding me.” 

 

“Fuck off, Alonso, or you sleep in the hall.” David flicked a loose straw wrapper in his direction. 

 

Leo’s face was turning pink, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe because the person in question was sitting five feet away. “Uh--” His throat was almost too dry to speak, but he managed to choke out, “Antonella. We went to the same middle school. She was smart and pretty and I liked her laugh a lot.” 

 

David smiled like he knew exactly what Leo was doing. “And what about now? Got a crush on anyone right now?” 

 

“Sorry,” Leo said venomously, still blushing furiously, “You already had your turn.” 

 

“Since when did my little munchkin get so sassy?” Cristiano was grinning from ear to ear, and his smile was so in-your-face, I-know-I’m-pretty that Leo felt like bending over to puke. 

 

Leo pointedly ignored his smile and glowered right back. “Cris, you’re up. Truth or dare.” 

 

“Dare,” Cristiano said, his eyes flashing combatively. Iker rolled his eyes and leaned back against the couch they were sharing like he was both used to Cristiano’s behavior and on such a high level of _so done_ that he deserved an award. “This is going to be a nightmare,” Cristiano observed calmly, and Iker aggressively mouthed, _no shit._  

 

Leo sat there for a moment, thinking and sizing up his opponent, and then David moved forward, put a hand on his shoulder, and whispered something in his ear. Leo leaned into the contact, and the corners up his lips bent upward into a half-smile turned grimace. 

 

“Already?” he asked quietly, and David nodded in return, his fingers lingering on the younger boy’s shoulder with only a fleeting expression of guilt crossing his features. “Alright, Cris. Kiss the person you hate least in the room.” 

 

“Make out with,” David corrected. “Not just kiss.” 

 

Cristiano sighed and turned to Iker, hooking his finger once. “Come hither, you sexy, sexy thing.” 

 

Iker groaned and moved forward, curling into a more comfortable position to face Cristiano. “Why do you always get me into shit like this?” 

 

“I ship it so hard,” Xabi said from the floor, nodding approvingly. 

 

Cristiano smirked in Xabi’s general direction like he couldn’t be fucked to find him on the floor to actually meet his gaze. Then he was looking back at Iker and he leaned forward, the couch cushions creaking quietly underneath their shifting bodies. 

 

Their lips met in a tentative, almost reverent manner, and the first few milliseconds of the kiss were polite, gentle, exploring, and then Cristiano exhaled against Iker’s mouth and it was like an electric shock ran up Iker’s spine. His shoulders lost their tension and his arm snaked around to grip Cristiano hard and pull him closer to bruise his lips. They parted for a brief moment, and then moved back in for a second kiss-- this one rougher and open-mouthed. 

 

“Fuck,” David sighed, almost longingly, while Sergio looked away, Fernando pressed closer to his side, and Xabi let out a low whistle of approval. Only Cesc looked as though he’d seen a ghost. Even Ricky was smiling like he was vaguely embarrassed for the two but recognized that it was just a “fun” thing, or what they considered fun anyway. He would rather be sleeping, but oh well. They were his friends, so he would suffer. 

 

Leo rolled his eyes at their reactions. “Okay, awesome, we have live porn. Thanks so much, you two.” 

 

“You dared me.” 

 

Iker leaned back contentedly and licked his lips. “My mouth feels like my brain does after masturba--” 

 

Ricky let out a strangled yelp and Iker shrugged. He rested his hand on Cristiano’s thigh, and Sergio struggled to contain his glare. Cesc’s similar struggle was pathetic and he gave up after a few seconds. 

 

“But do you know what I mean?” Iker continued, this time directing his question to Cristiano instead of the group at large in order to keep Ricky from puking and/or crying. 

 

“Yes,” Cristiano answered soothingly, patting him on the knee. “I know, Iker.” He stared around the room thoughtfully before his gaze landed on Cesc who was still looking miserable, his hands balled into fists, his teeth digging into his lower lip and tearing flesh. “Cesc,” he called, “You’re up.” 

 

“Truth.” He wasn’t in the mood for making out with someone who wasn’t Iker. At this point, he wasn’t even in the mood to make out with Iker because Iker wanted anyone over him, and if there was one thing Cesc wanted more than Iker, it was to be _wanted_. 

 

“Do you like someone in this room?” Cristiano had a theory, but he didn’t look at anyone but Cesc. He most certainly didn’t look at Iker because Iker was a dumb shit when it came to crushes and love and the look would only confuse things. 

 

“Yes,” Cesc said after a long pause. He understood Cristiano’s look and stared straight back at him and only him. “But so do, like, four others, so.” 

 

“Oooohhhh,” Sergio laughed nervously, not looking at Fernando. He was trying to relax against the couch, but Fernando was so close and-- god, could he stop moving around? It was only making the whole situation more uncomfortable because all Sergio could imagine was pinning him down and-- “Well who is it, Cesc?” 

 

He looked at Cesc like he was a piece of meat just waiting to be devoured, and Iker hated it. Iker really hated it. “You don’t seem to really understand the point of the game, Sergio,” he said carefully but firmly. “One truth, one question. You don’t get to ask until you’re satisfied.” 

 

“I thought that was the whole point of the game though,” Sergio replied innocently. “To be satisfied?” 

 

“Fuck off,” Cristiano muttered, more annoyed at the fact that Sergio was being Sergio than at Sergio being Sergio to Cesc. If that made sense. He wasn’t sure it did, but he was feeling it rather than saying it and that always made things a hot mess. 

 

“You guys have more drama than Gossip Girl,” Leo remarked snidely, and Ricky looked up at him innocently from his place on the ground, like he didn’t understand the reference and he most certainly didn’t understand how Leo made it. 

 

Xabi tutted under his breath. “Such is the life of a socialite.” 

 

“Well aren’t you special.” Leo was good at making sassy comments under his breath. David appreciated that skill very much, and he showed his appreciation by gently bumping Leo’s shoulder, prompting the younger boy to blush until his eyes could only meet the ground. 

 

“Next?” David asked, still staring down at Leo with a protective sort of gleam in his eyes. 

 

“Sergio,” Cesc said thoughtfully, and Iker almost grinned with pride. He wasn’t about to back down. “Truth or dare?” 

 

“Truth, this time around.” Sergio smiled like he knew there was more. Plenty of opportunities to embarrass himself. He wasn’t worried about missing his chance. 

 

Cesc made a disappointed sound at the back of his throat because he had something really good saved up and it’s not like it would have been a punishment to watch Sergio do it. His eyes glazed over for a moment as the scene played out in his mind. He only snapped back to reality when Iker nudged his leg. 

 

“Uh, last person you slept with?” he stammered out quickly. 

 

Something peculiar crossed Sergio’s features, and it was a long time before he answered. There was an intake of breath, a moment in which he traced the small tattoo on his wrist, and then his weary reply: “Cris.” 

 

Cristiano, uncharacteristically, froze. His jaw was taut, his shoulders tense, and he only spoke when he realized all eyes on the room were on him. As this was a very familiar feeling for him, he found the strength to recover, and said, “Come on, Sergio, you have a reputation to uphold.” 

 

Iker smiled for Cristiano’s benefit, and this only incensed Sergio further. Half of him wondered why he was ever their friend in the first place, and his other, more painful half wanted to be their friend again, staring across the room and making fun of someone else in his place. A bitterness took root inside of him and forced his hand. 

 

“Iker, what’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?” The IM conversations flashed before his eyes again. Iker with Mr. Beckham. Iker motherfucking Casillas with a teacher. With their _teacher_. The _seventeen_ year old Iker with the 20-something _teacher_. It was like a mantra he forced himself to rephrase in order to understand. 

 

“I never said I wanted truth,” Iker replied combatively, staring at Sergio like talking to Javi about his cheese toes would be more enjoyable. 

 

“Fine, suck Villa off,” the other boy replied cheerfully. Iker was right where he wanted him. Unless he wanted to suck Villa off in which case _that_ was right where Sergio wanted him. 

 

Iker choked ( _ha_ , Sergio internally giggled at his pun) and David smiled, too much of an idiot to even see the look of annoyance that crossed Leo’s features. “I’ll take the truth, jesus. No offense, David.” 

 

“None taken, saintly one.” 

 

Iker shifted uncomfortably in his seat, looking down at his hands until he came up with an answer. Leo looked a little too excited to hear his response, having recovered from his mini bitchfit at the prospect of David’s dick being touched by Iker, and Cristiano gave him a look, mouthed, _fucking gnome_. 

 

_You complete me_ , he mouthed back. 

 

Finally, Iker sighed and lifted his head. Cristiano and Leo stopped their silent bickering. “Okay, so, not saying any names because it’s not my story to tell, but basically I was dating someone freshman year and he wanted to come out and tell everyone he was gay, but I didn’t, and I told him it was wrong what we were and what we did, and just all this horrible stuff, and he’s had to live with that ever since.” 

 

Under normal circumstances, upon hearing that, Sergio would have pulled back and let it go because, shit, that was kind of a lot to deal with and Iker had been his best friend practically since they were born and he wasn’t about to put more on his plate, but. These weren’t normal circumstances, and Iker was no longer his friend (that being the not-normal bit, but Sergio liked to separate the two because not-normal meant something he could fix and Iker not being his friend didn’t fall under the category of “fixable” because that would require Sergio’s effort and apology and there was no way in hell he was giving either). 

 

And because Sergio wasn’t ready to give in, he pulled the douchiest move possible. “You sure that’s the worst thing you’ve ever done? Nothing else? No-- oh, I don’t know-- covert _affairs_ you want to confess to partaking in?” 

 

The blood drained from Iker’s face, and his shoulders tensed like he was about to attack. “No, and you’re still not getting the fucking point of one truth, one goddamn question.” 

 

Sergio shrugged. “Whatever. Your turn, captain.” He saluted him mockingly, and Iker felt like kicking him in the crotch. 

 

Iker thought for a moment, thought about what really mattered to Sergio because he was in one of those moods where he wanted to find it and destroy it and make Sergio hurt because of it. Whatever friendship had been between them before was gone now. 

 

Iker was certain Sergio knew, and he was certain there was only one way Sergio would use his new knowledge: to hurt Iker in any and every way he could think of. It made Iker impossibly sad to look at what their friendship had become, but it made him even sadder to think about what their friendship once was. 

 

Finally, “Fernando,” he decided. 

 

Fernando looked at Iker a little warily because they used to be friendly, and Iker looked pissed, and Fernando didn’t really like the look of a pissed off Iker. He remembered when they just used to talk about weather and shit. 

 

“Dare,” Fernando said uneasily, knowing full well what he was walking into, and it really wasn’t smart decision-- he knew that-- but it was something Cristiano would do, walk into something so chaotic that only his presence would increase the chaos. And Fernando didn’t want to be Cristiano-- not at all-- but he wanted to mean to Sergio what Cristiano had once (and possibly still) meant. 

 

“Trace Sergio’s tattoo--” Iker gestured to his crotch with a cruel smile, “Yeah, that tattoo. With your tongue. Slowly.” 

 

“Holy god,” David nodded approvingly, “Saint fucking Iker.” 

 

Fernando turned a little pink, but nodded like it was something he had to do. He looked very determined with his little mouth set in a firm, pink line. He wet his lips once and got on his knees in front of Sergio, finally lifting his eyes to meet Sergio’s for the first time since Iker’s dare. He smiled shyly, Sergio swallowed hard, and Iker knew he’d made the right choice. 

 

“Well. Go on,” Sergio murmured, sounding pained. He nodded to his zipper. “I can help with that if you want.” 

 

“I got it.” He slid it down with shaky fingers as the rest of the room watched with bated breath. 

 

Sergio lifted up and tugged his pants down just far enough to reveal the tattoo. Fernando tried not to wonder how Iker knew it was there and focused more on what the hell would compel Sergio to get a crotch tattoo of an--???-- eagle? Was that an eagle? 

 

Fernando wet his lips again and bent down to lick away at the first bit of the line. Sergio’s skin was smooth and tasted like salt, and he immediately blushed as he felt himself react. _Oh god, oh god, oh god, not right now_. He licked at the head of the bird, quickly, like he was licking a melting popsicle, and Sergio let out a quiet moan. 

 

“Slower,” Iker said, and Cristiano shook his head, like, _shit you’re mad_. 

 

Fernando took a deep breath and exhaled loudly against Sergio’s already wet skin. Sergio arched his hips upward and it took all his willpower not to thrust his hips into the other boy’s mouth, face, fuck just anything closer to him. 

 

He licked slowly at the ink, nervously bringing his eyes up to gaze at Sergio quickly before bringing his eyes back down to finish the tracing. He was halfway around when he realized Sergio was half-hard. 

 

He finished as fast as he could without Iker interrupting to prolong Sergio’s torture, trying to ignore the sounds Sergio was making at the back of his throat. Somehow, his fingers had ended up in Fernando’s hair and they were threading through, moving against his scalp, tugging and pressing Fernando closer until he couldn’t move away even if he tried. 

 

Finally, when it seemed like Sergio was enjoying himself instead of being deliciously tortured, Iker put up his hand. “That’s enough, Nando.” 

 

Sergio whined and his fingers didn’t leave the other boy’s hair for a full thirty seconds. Fernando was busy lapping away like a good little boy, and when Iker finally forced him to pull away, his lips were pink, his tongue slipping out to feel around at them. 

 

Everyone was silent. Xabi was shaking his head, thinking about Steven and, god, if he knew what they were up to. Cesc was ridiculously turned on, gulping hard and pink in the face, staring at Iker like he would be on his knees every day for him. Cristiano’s face was oddly blank, and Iker was caught between worrying what he had done to Cristiano and wondering if Sergio was miserable enough. Leo stared at David, and David stared at the ground. 

 

Only Ricky spoke: “Guys, I really don’t think we should be doing this on a church field trip.” 

 

+ 

 

The game had ended soon after Iker’s dare for Fernando because 1.) no one felt like they could top that and 2.) they all felt a little guilty for possibly scarring poor, innocent Ricky. He looked shaken to the core, and Leo almost had to tuck him into bed. 

 

“You should have stopped us sooner,” Leo grumbled, sort of upset that no one had dared him to do something with David, even though he knew that was dumb and immature and if he wanted to do something, he should really just _do something_. 

 

Ricky sighed against his pillows, happy they were alone in their room. “Yeah, and have Cristiano give me that look like-- like, I don’t know, I’m just some Jesus freak who can’t handle anything other than the Lord’s word and the overwhelming incense at Mass on Sundays?” 

 

“Hey,” Leo said angrily, “You’re not a freak and--” He cut off and paced the length of the room, whacking his t-shirt against his leg. “If Cristiano thinks he can make you feel like that and just get away with it, he’s wrong. I’m going to hit him again. Ricky, I am. I’m going to fucking--” 

 

“Shut up, Leo,” groaned the other boy, sitting up in bed and moving his hair out of his eyes. “He’s not rude. That’s not why I feel like a freak around him. I feel like a freak around him because I think he’s perfect.” 

 

“And what?” Leo almost-shouted heatedly, not noticing the dreamy quality Ricky’s eyes had taken on, “He makes you feel like you’re not perfect?” 

 

“No,” Ricky said softly, “He makes me feel like perfection exists. He-- Leo, I _really_ think he’s perfect.” He tried to give his friend a pointed look, but he wasn’t the slyest and just ended up confusing him even more. 

 

“What the hell.” Leo sat down on the other bed. “What the hell are you making that face for?” 

 

“I think I might--” Ricky cleared his throat. “I think I might have feelings for him.” 

 

“WHAT?” Leo stood up again, his expression one of absolute disbelief. “No. That’s impossible. Isn’t that, like, illegal in your church? And, like, okay you’re an angel, Ricky, and Cristiano is Satan incarnate. There is no way in hell you have a thing for him. Are you shitting me?” Ricky shook his head. “You’re not shitting me. Holy mother of balls.” 

 

“Leo, sit down.” Ricky was calm, hands folded in his lap, but the shadow of a frown was approaching. “Please?” 

 

Leo sat, but crossed his arms over his chest like a frustrated child post-tantrum. 

 

“It’s not _illegal_ in my church, first of all. Are my parents cool with it?” He smiled gently. “No, why do you think I’m here? I know, probably not the best decision by them to put me in an all boys school, but they thought maybe the _bullying_ would knock it out of me. They thought church might work too, and it has, but not in the way they thought it would. It’s helped me come to terms with what I am. Which isn’t wrong. It’s just--” 

 

“Love,” Leo finished for him, looking away for what Ricky had to go through. “I know.” 

 

“I know what Cris is, Leo. I know that he’s made mistakes that could probably bring me to tears.” Ricky laughed quietly, such a soft smile coming into his eyes that Leo uncrossed his arms and thought, _oh fuck_. “But, I think that’s sort of the point of love, you know? To love someone who doesn’t always deserve it, when they especially don’t deserve it, because everyone deserves love even when they’ve screwed up pretty badly.” 

 

“That doesn’t make sense,” Leo remarked softly, tugging at his lower lip with his teeth. “That especially doesn’t make sense with Cristiano.” 

 

“So you’re telling me that there hasn’t been one single time when you’ve seen him do something that makes him worth loving?” There was a sort of pitiful look in Ricky’s eyes, like Leo was really missing out, like maybe he should open his eyes a little more. 

 

And Leo thought back to that time in the bedroom, almost said yes, but then the fight flashed before his eyes, and all the times Cristiano had made him feel inadequate or gotten more attention or made fun of him for doing things like volunteering in math or forgetting his locker combination. 

 

“Yeah,” Leo said finally, setting his jaw, “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.” And he pulled the covers up to his chin to sleep. 

 

+ 

 

Cesc was stuck on the floor, and it wasn’t really a bad situation because he had all the pillows under his back and Iker made sure he heated up the blankets so he wasn’t cold, and it was a really comfortable room with a nice, thick carpet, but Cristiano had already stepped on him once and it wasn’t something Cesc was desperate to repeat. 

 

He was thrilled to be in the same room as Iker, but he could tell there was something Cristiano and Iker wanted to discuss, alone, and he hated feeling left out, especially when it had to do with the only person he wanted to actually feel “in” with. And, coincidentally, the only person he wanted _in him_ , but that was a completely different story. 

 

And so he pretended to sleep. 

 

Iker came to check on him when he thought his breathing sounded steady. When he found Cesc “sleeping,” he pressed a hand to his forehead and gently patted, murmuring something about him being a “good kid.” But Cesc didn’t want to feel like a kid around Iker, and he certainly didn’t want to feel like a good one. 

 

Iker crawled back into bed, thinking about Cesc, thinking about how he worked so hard when he was being tutored and how his questions about English were especially painful, especially when he brought up his teacher. And then Iker was compiling a quick list of what he liked about David and what he liked about Cesc, and he wasn’t sure why. He quickly scrapped the list because, why would he even be comparing the two of them in the first place? 

 

Cristiano set down his book and looked over at Iker. “Sleeping?” 

 

“Yeah, he’s asleep.” 

 

“Hm. So do you want to explain that little stunt you pulled during truth or dare? Or what Sergio pulled? Or the vomit inducing looks Xabi kept giving his phone every time he got a text? Or, uh, how about the fact that Leo drools over David so much it makes me sick? Or maybe that--” 

 

Iker held up his hand just as Cristiano was about to move on to Cesc’s crush. “Shut up, okay, I was there, I know. I’m sorry. Sergio pissed me off because I know he knows and I’m flipping my shit because I know how Sergio gets when he’s upset, but I guess he has no proof, you know?” 

 

Cesc’s brow wrinkled, but he made no sound. 

 

“Yeah, no proof,” Cris scoffed, “But you know if they do decide to conduct an investigation or whatever, it’s all over your IM history?” 

 

“Okay, so I delete everything. Good, help me do that Monday when we get back to my laptop. Easy.” He was close to hyperventilating. “And then Sergio can go fuck himself, or Fernando, because I don’t really care what the shit he does.” He played with the blanket on his bed nervously. “I don’t care,” he reminded himself. “No one is going to find out.” 

 

“No one is going to find out,” Cristiano echoed calmingly. 

 

Cesc hoped they were wrong. Because Cesc wanted to find out. 

 

+ 

 

ginger_x: we played truth or dare NOTHING HAPPENED 

stevie_g: uh yeah I know 

ginger_x: how do you know?? 

stevie_g: because I trust you 

ginger_x: can you punch me so I can stop myself from aww-ing 

stevie_g: of course it might help me feel manly again bc/ obvy guys can’t be cute and touchy-feely 

ginger_x: NEVER 

ginger_x: man! must be gruff! rawr! rip door off hinges! Don”T SMILE 

ginger_x: must assert authority. *kicks door in* 

stevie_g: lmao I miss you like crazy 

ginger_x: miss you too 

ginger_x: it’ll be over in a week though and then I can see you again 

ginger_x: miss your smile 

stevie_g: now I really am aww-ing 

ginger_x: <3333333333333333333 

stevie_g: ur ridiculous that doesn’t even look like a heart anymore 

ginger_x: BOO that was perfect 

stevie_g: <333333333 (that’s more like it) 

ginger_x: uGH whatever good night 

stevie_g: night :) 

stevie_g has logged off 3:05 am 

 

+ 

 

Sergio was sitting on his bed, and Fernando was moving about the room, humming under his breath nervously like he couldn’t bear to stand still. And the truth was, he couldn’t. He couldn’t even look Sergio in the eye after what had happened. It was during the game, but that didn’t erase the fact that it had actually happened and gotten a _rise_ out of Sergio. 

 

Fernando told himself he was very cute because he even used innuendos when talking to himself about hard-ons. 

 

Sergio shifted on the bed, answering his IMs because he really, really did not want to have to look at Fernando. Or. He wanted to. He just didn’t think Fernando would want to look at him. He was embarrassed and turned on and cranky. 

 

“So,” he finally said, breaking the silence, because Sergio hated silences more than he hated being awkward and uncomfortable. 

 

“So,” Fernando echoed, grateful he didn’t have to be the first to speak. 

 

“I, uh, wanted to apologize for--” He finished typing his reply to Andres about practice being rescheduled. He dreaded looking up, and when he did, Fernando was staring at him intently like Sergio was beautiful and secretive and everything _more_ than he actually was. “For...you know, everything. If I freaked you out, I’m sorry.” 

 

“You didn’t,” Fernando answered quickly-- almost too quickly. “You didn’t freak me out. At all.” He’d been trying to hint to Sergio that he actually wasn’t straight, but Sergio was dumb and Fernando wasn’t hinting hard enough. 

 

“Oh.” Sergio looked mildly pleased. “Good. We’re good then, yeah?” 

 

“We’re better than good,” Fernando replied, trying again. “Like, _way better_.” 

 

“Good.” Sergio smiled, but he was confused as shit. “That’s... good, I guess.” 

 

Fernando’s face fell, and Sergio flashed him a quick smile before turning over to sleep. He shut his eyes hard and gritted his teeth until Fernando’s light was off. Then he just felt like crying, but he counted to one hundred and calmed himself down, burrowed deep under the covers and tried to forget the night ever happened. 

 

+ 

 

CR7: is my main bitch all rested up?? 

cuntrao: i’m hunrgy 

CR7: ur what

cuntrao: hungauy 

cuntrao: HUNGRY FUCK GOD DAMMIT I HATE MY LIFE 

CR7: take a step back and cut out all poisonous relationships 

CR7: improve your life by starting with yourself 

cuntrao: literally fuck u so much 

CR7: :’) 

CR7: we played truth or dare 

cuntrao: ANNDDDD???? 

cuntrao: and omg i’m still crouton u played w/out me 

cuntrao: *jealous 

CR7: how does jealous become 

CR7: never mind 

CR7: with you I shouldn’t even ask 

cuntrao: <3 tell me what happened 

CR7: pretty boring i just made out with iker and watched nando lick sergio’s crotch tattoo and then found out a ton of shit about who likes who and blah blah blah etc booorrring 

CR7: YAWN 

cuntrao: rude bitch tell me everything now and i can’t rlly picture nando + sergio but???? hot???

CR7: hot 

CR7: but dumb because fernando’s a fuckcake and sergio’s worse 

cuntrao: uHHH wait marcelo’s comin over b/c i’m supposed to remind him to shower and he forgot wht i’m supposed to remind him u know how it goes 

CR7: yeah remind him to wash behind his ears 

cuntrao: omg thank <3 TELL ME MORE GOSSIP TOMORORW 

CR7: will do. 

CR7 has logged off 4:07 am 

 

+ 

 

It was early in the morning, way too early for Cesc to be up, but Iker was snoring softly and Cesc hadn’t slept at all and he even thought Iker’s snoring was cute and his obsession was actually starting to become unhealthy. He was trying to be done with it, but it wasn’t working. He couldn’t just turn off his emotions. He had to forcibly remove himself from the room because that was the next best thing. 

 

Cesc loaded his plate up from the buffet downstairs, and took a seat at one of the empty tables. Unfortunately, he didn’t factor in the table next to him, occupied by what he called the “wannabe German.” Javi. 

 

Cesc,” he called cheerfully, bringing his plate over to Cesc’s half empty table. “Eggs! You got eggs too! Bacon licks.” 

 

“I--what?” 

 

“Bacon,” he said, nodding like Cesc would understand the second time around. “It licks. If you lick it, it almost tastes like it’s licking you back. It’s the food that keeps on giving, do you know what I mean?” 

 

“I...yeah, okay.” Cesc picked at his plate, trying to avoid any further conversation. 

 

“So, what’s up with you?” Javi licked his bacon. “You seem majorly out of it.” 

 

“I am.” 

 

“Why?” He shoveled eggs in his mouth and smiled cheerfully, way too brightly for 4:45 in the morning. 

 

“Love,” he said, waving his hand like it was no big deal. “You know. That sort of stuff.” 

 

“Love makes you feel like you’re being eaten alive, you know?” It was the first thing Cesc heard Javi say that actually made sense. It was a strange, unfamiliar feeling-- understanding Javi, that is. “It sucks the life out of you, so you have to just be hopeful in the face of everything. Like, no, Love, sit down.” He put his hands out like he was conducting an imaginary figure. 

 

“Yeah,” Cesc said glumly. “Thanks, Javi. I guess? Uh.” 

 

“Guten,” he answered agreeably. “Bitte.” 

 

Javi started licking his bacon again and Cesc decided it was time to give him some alone time with his food, so he finished his breakfast and returned to his room. Cristiano and Iker were both burrowed under their covers, and the room was strangely silent. Iker’s snoring had stopped, and one of the windows was open. 

 

Cesc left it open and stumbled back to his bed on the floor. With Javi’s words of advice in mind, he fell asleep. It was restless and his dreams were mostly unpleasant about a very different kind of truth or dare in which every single one of his embarrassing secrets was revealed and there was nothing he could do about it. 

 

His dreams were chaos, and when he awoke, it was no better. David was kicking him gently, nudging him again and again until he finally woke up. “Cesc, please tell me Iker and Cristiano are having gay buttsex in the shower.” 

 

Cesc rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “What.” He leaned over, yawning, to check the bathroom. “No, man, it’s empty.” 

 

“Fuck.” He turned to the group who had, unbeknownst to Cesc, gathered in the doorway behind David. “We’re fucked.” 

 

“What?” Cesc struggled to his feet, still trying to rub his eyes clear. “What’s going on, guys?” 

 

“We have a problem. We may have lost Cristiano and Iker.”   



	10. God is a Bullet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The retrieval of Cristiano and Iker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For sparksfly7 for her amazing comments and unconditional support <3 So proud to have you as a reader. 
> 
> IT'S 3:30 RIGHT NOW  
> I apologize in advance for any typos and/or this just being shit in general  
> again, blaming it on the late hour 
> 
> edit: @sanikersaves is my twitter. I was tweeting spoilers about the story. I'll post it again on the next chapter just in case any of you want to follow to see the spoilers. 
> 
> edit: [Iker and Cristiano](http://crinklies.tumblr.com/post/51922735463)

Pep was standing with his back to them, looking out the window with a mournful expression. He rubbed the top of his bald head, sighing loudly. He turned around, his eyes large and worried, his sweater vest wrinkled, reflecting the true disorder of his mind. “What do you mean you lost them?” 

 

“I mean, we lost them. I opened the door to wake them up this morning and they weren’t there, so.” David smiled nervously. “Uh, we’re going to just go and look for them--” 

 

“What do you mean you lost them?” He repeated, his eyes still wide and bright, slowly growing wider and brighter. 

 

“We’ll find them,” David said firmly. “We’ll--” He cast a panicked look at Leo, and it was the first time Leo had ever seen him look thrown off. He was still hot, and it made Leo upset. 

 

“F-find them?” Pep patted his forehead, breathing hard. “You’ll--” He looked like he was going to pass out. He fanned himself. “You’ll find them, yes. Good. Good.” He turned back to the window, still fanning himself, muttering about “losing Mourinho’s favorite student” and “please don’t lock me in the conference room that smells again.” 

 

Once the door had shut firmly behind them, David gathered the group in the lobby, ordering them to skip breakfast even though the smells were wafting in from the dining hall and they’d hardly eaten at all the night before since the bus ride was so long. 

 

They were miserable, cranky, starving, and David wanted them to split up. 

 

“What do you mean, _split up_?” Leo snapped irritably. “What, are we going to search the entire city in pairs?” 

 

“Groups of three, and _yes_ , if we have to. Leo and Xabi, you’re with me. Fernando and Sergio, you take Ricky. Don’t lose one another and stay safe. Keep your phones on. They can’t have gotten far, so I’ll check--” 

 

“Wait,” Ricky said suddenly, eyes going wide with excitement. “I think I might know where he--they are.” 

 

+ 

 

messiah: if you don’t get your ass back to the hotel right now, I will literally kill you 

messiah: where the fuck are you 

messiah: we’re forming a search party 

messiah: A SEARCH PARTY 

messiah: I CAN TELL YOU’RE ONLINE 

CR7: doing something important 

CR7: Ricky will know where I am 

CR7: buy me time 

CR7: please 

messiah: are you fucking kidding me 

messiah: absolutely not 

CR7: please leo just this once I’m not fucking around 

CR7: and I’ll owe you one 

messiah: this isn’t just you running off to enjoy the city with your gay lover, is it? 

CR7: no 

CR7: unfortunately not 

messiah: is this about that thing you were crying about in your room 

CR7: yes 

messiah: how much time do you need 

CR7: an hour, two if possible 

messiah: you owe me 

messiah: ...and i’m sorry about that thing you have to deal with 

messiah has logged off 6:37 am 

 

+ 

 

The woman at the front desk was giving him yet another reason to despise every single thing on the planet. She was smiling sympathetically down at them, shaking her head because “No, I’m sorry, visiting hours don’t start until 8.” 

 

“Eight?” he echoed in disbelief. Iker pressed his hand to Cristiano’s back to comfort him. “Eight? I don’t have until eight. Please. Can’t you just let me in to see my mother? They kept her overnight for some testing or whatever, I’m not sure, but she won’t be here for long. It’s not even that bad. She _said_ it wasn’t that bad, and she said she was going to be okay. If she’s going to be okay, why can’t I just go in and see her?” 

 

“I’m sorry,” the woman said again, her voice apologetic. “Visiting hours don’t start until 8. You have an hour and a half, and we have a cafeteria... if that helps?” 

 

Cristiano turned away, quickly walking back towards the entrance. He strode out the doors, and the day was scalding hot already, but he didn’t care because it was better than being in the air-conditioned hospital lobby, waiting and waiting and waiting, and knowing he hadn’t asked for enough time. 

 

He finally sat down on a bench, and Iker joined him, putting an arm around Cristiano even though it made him uncomfortable because he wasn’t really a touching sort of person, but it was his best friend, and he looked like he needed it. “She’ll be okay.” 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

“And she said not to come and visit her anyway, didn’t she?” 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

“Because she knew you would try something like this.” 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

“Because you’re an idiot.” 

 

“I know.” 

 

Cristiano was silent and still, stiff against Iker’s chest, but Iker continued to hold on to him as the day grew warmer and time passed. As it was beginning to approach eight,  Iker pulled out his phone and headphones, handed one earbud to Cristiano, and played music to calm them down. 

 

It was the playlist Cristiano had created on his iPod awhile ago, and Iker had kept it despite absolutely hating every song on it. Sergio had helped Cristiano put it together, and they surprised Iker with it, and just like that, it was the three of them together again in Iker’s mind, and he knew that whatever Sergio did, it would be forgivable. 

 

“Do you think they’ll let me in now?” 

 

Iker tightened his grip on Cristiano’s arm. “I don’t think so. We’ve still got fifteen minutes.” 

 

“Fifteen, okay, fifteen...” He took out his phone again to fiddle with, wondering what his mom was doing up there in her room, if she was awake yet, if she was eating well enough, if his sisters and brother were visiting her enough. He worried about his mother more than he worried about anything in the world because she was the only one who supported him through anything, the only one who had faith in him when he didn’t deserve it. And there was a chance he would lose her. 

 

messiah: we’re close to the hospital 

messiah: like 5 minutes away 

CR7: I need 20 

messiah: well I can’t exactly wreck the car 

 

“Shit.” Cristiano shoved his phone back in his pocket and fell back against the bench because, after everything they’d done, they couldn’t even get into the hospital. He had climbed out a hotel room window for Christ’s sake. “They’re going to be here too soon.” 

 

Iker’s face fell. “How soon?” 

 

Cristiano looked up to watch a car speeding into the parking lot, honking a warning as it went, zig-zagging through the empty space like the driver had no idea what he was doing. “Now,” he said calmly, like he expected it to happen, like _of fucking course nothing would work out_. 

 

And sure enough, when the car pulled level with them, David poked his head out the window with a reckless grin. “Fancy seeing you here.” 

 

There was a moment of terrifying silence where Iker expected Cristiano to speak but he was horribly silent and frozen and miserable, and then Iker blurted out, “I had an allergic reaction. My face was...large. Swollen, you know? I, uh, had shellfish at breakfast. I’m allergic to shellfish.” 

 

“Shellfish, huh?” David turned to smile at Cesc, squeezed between Sergio and Ricky, in the backseat of the rental van Pep was meant to drive around. “Cesc, you had breakfast. Were they serving shellfish down there?” 

 

Cesc just stared back for a moment before spluttering out, “Yes, yes, of course they had shellfish. I, uh, had some too. It was gross. Iker’s lucky to be allergic.” 

 

Iker smiled encouragingly, trying to somehow get the message across to Cristiano that it was time to stand up and leave as well as thank Cesc for the lie he’d managed to pull off. “Come on, Cris,” he said tugging. “No need to worry about my allergic reaction anymore. Everything is taken care of. Time to leave the hospital.” 

 

Cristiano picked himself up slowly, making eye contact with only Leo as he approached the car, giving him a simple nod. He would have said thank you. He meant to say thank you, but no words were coming out because he felt so lost and worried, like his throat was about to close up and he would have a panic attack because his mom was in there and he never wanted to lose someone ever again. Because one second they were there and the next they weren’t, and there was no getting them back. There was no apologizing or late I love you’s, and there weren’t anymore kisses goodnight. It was just-- empty. 

 

And then Cristiano’s eyes were filling with tears, and god, that was embarrassing because he hardly ever cried and he certainly didn’t cry in front of those people, especially not David and Leo and Fernando. Or Sergio. Not Sergio either. 

 

Just as he was about to get into the car, David said, “Ricky told us about your mom.” And his voice was quiet, his face drawn and eyes hidden. “Have you already visited her?” 

 

He shook his head, and Iker’s hand left his back. “Visiting hours start at 8.” 

 

“It’s eight now.” David jerked his head in the direction of the building. “Go now and we’ll wait.” 

 

Cristiano nodded and swallowed hard, trying to look grateful, but his eyes were filling with tears again, and he could just make out the blurry shapes of the boys in the car. Cesc was hopeful and sweet, leaning as close to the window as he could, like anyone else’s happiness was his happiness and their pain was his as well. Iker was leaning against the window near Cesc’s face, looking tense and worried, and god, he was so loyal and honorable that it just hurt to compare anything to him because they always fell short. Sergio was hidden in the backseat, for once not looking at Fernando, and Fernando looked guilty, perhaps for hating Cristiano as much as he once had. Their hands were intertwined on Sergio’s lap. Ricky’s eyes were full of tears, and he was sniffling, not even trying to hide it. Leo was staring at Cristiano, expressionless but solid, and David, for once, had softened. Xabi was in the far back of the van, sitting all alone, and the look he gave Cristiano was the only one that propelled him forward, the only one that pulled him back to reality and back to the slowly ticking clock. 

 

A tear slowly made its way down his cheek, and he turned away, starting towards the hospital doors. 

 

+ 

 

“That was nice of you,” Leo said quietly, not looking at David. He stared straight ahead because it didn’t really matter to him all that much and there was _no way_ it made David even hotter. Nope. 

 

“I can be nice, you know,” he replied quietly, the smile apparent in his tone. 

 

“I didn’t.” David looked over, and Leo finally turned his head. “Know,” he clarified. 

 

I brought you coffee,” David replied defensively. 

 

“Once.” 

 

“You threw it out. I would have brought you coffee more times if you hadn’t thrown it out.” He made a face like, _obviously, fucker._  

 

“I don’t like coffee.” He glared. “It gives me a headache. I like hot chocolate.” 

 

“Picky bitch,” David scoffed. “It’s a _heated beverage_ , and getting you that coffee was more trouble than I go through for anyone else.” His hand tightened on the wheel, knuckles shining white. 

 

“Why?” 

 

“Just trying to be nice.” His same old answer. 

 

And for once, Leo followed up with, “Why?” 

 

“Because you’re alright, Leo. And not a lot of people are.” There was a long pause, and the boys in the back spoke quietly to break the uncomfortable silence. “I mean, you do leave your dirty towels out a lot and I’m fairly certain you masturbate in the shower which is why the drain is always clogging up, but hey, you’re an alright roommate.” 

 

“I do NOT masturbate in the shower.” 

 

“Is that the sound I hear when I’m trying to sleep then?” David smirked. 

 

“Oh my god,” Leo moaned. “NO. No, shut up.” 

 

David shrugged defensively. “Look, all I’m saying is that you have to do it sometime, and the shower drain always clogs up, and somehow those two must be connected.” 

 

“It’s probably _you_ in the shower,” Leo growled. 

 

“It is _definitely_ not me in the shower. I direct it far away from the drain because I KNOW that is why the drain is clogging up.” He wiggled his fingers in Leo’s face. “My hand is thirsty for my dick juice, Leo, and I am not one to disappoint.” 

 

Leo wrinkled his nose, confused but also disgusted. “So where does it go?” 

 

“My hand, and then the towel because I, _unlike_ you _\--”_ He raised his eyebrows accusingly. “--care about the drain clogging up. Dude. Respect the drain.” 

 

“Oh my god,” Leo said quietly, a horrible realization dawning on him. “Oh my god.” His eyes went wide and the color drained from his face. “No. NO. Not the face towel, right? You use the one you--” David shook his head. “...wrap around your waist?” 

 

“The face towels, yeah, man, I’m not going to walk around with my cum splattered on my damn towel.” David shook his head like the idea was stupid enough to never even occur to him. 

 

“JESUS CHRIST.” 

 

Iker, who was trying to drift to sleep in the way back of the van with his head on Xabi’s shoulder, jerked upright, knocking into Xabi’s chin. “What the hell?” 

 

“DAVID, I USE THOSE TOWELS FOR WASHING MY FACE. THEY ARE FACE TOWELS. FOR FACES. FOR CLEAN FACES. NOT FOR FINGERS AND NOT FOR DICKS AND CERTAINLY NOT FOR YOUR CUM. CLOG THE DAMN DRAIN. I DON’T WANT YOUR CUM ON MY FACE.” 

 

“You sure about that?” He waggled his eyebrows. Leo looked revolted. 

 

“My face,” he whispered. “Oh god, my poor face.” He covered his face in his hands. 

 

“Yeah, okay, but seriously are you the one clogging up the drain.” David drummed his fingers on the steering wheel

 

“Shut up about the goddamn drain.” 

 

“Shut up about your goddamn face. Quit having a bitchfit about it. You probably touch other people’s... fluids all the time without knowing it.” David breathed out a sigh, mouthing, _get the fuck over it_. 

 

“THAT DOESN’T MAKE IT ANY BETTER.” Leo opened the car door and scrambled out, furiously scrubbing at his face. “I’m washing my face. I have to wash my face. Leave without me if you want. I don’t care. It’s better than going back to live in that den of inequity. FACE TOWELS, DAVID. FACE. TOWELS.” He stormed off. 

 

+ 

 

Cesc was doodling on his arm with his thin black sharpie. It was shaping up to be another mini goalkeeper, but instead of flying out of the goal to make a save, he was sitting on the ground in front of it, sad, with a little halo perched on his head. 

 

Cesc decided it was cute in a this-makes-me-want-to-cry sort of way. Cesc had been feeling like that a lot lately, like he wanted to cry, and he hated that feeling because it made him feel like he wasn’t strong and he wanted to be strong in a way that wasn’t internalized. He wanted to be strong in a way he could be proud of and in a way Iker would notice. 

 

piqueton: how’s it going 

sex_flabbergast: sucky 

sex_flabbergast: miss u 

piqueton: miss you too 

piqueton: lots 

piqueton: how’s iker 

sex_flabbergast: he made out with cristiano 

sex_flabbergast: had an allergic reaction??? but I think he was lying about that bit 

piqueton: allergic??? to cristiano? 

piqueton: was it the fake tan or just the personality in general that induced the sneezing? 

sex_flabbergast: lmao no he said he was allergic to shellfish but i think he was just lying for an excuse to get to the hospital 

piqueton: waht the fuck??? 

sex_flabbergast: to see cristiano’s mom 

piqueton: oh shit now i feel bad 

sex_flabbergast: no worries 

piqueton: do you hate him now for touching ur bf’s sacred lips? 

sex_flabbergast: no, I can tell cris isn’t into him /that/ way 

piqueton: how?? isn’t he into everyone? 

sex_flabbergast: no, when he’s really into someone, he acts a certain way idk look @ him and sergio 

piqueton: him and sergio were just fucking tho??? 

sex_flabbergast: ugh you’re so dumb about relationships 

piqueton: yeAH??? well I asked someone out 

sex_flabbergast: WHOOO???????????????? 

piqueton: this girl from st. anne’s she’s hilarious and smart and sweet and I really like her 

piqueton: idk I thought I just liked her as a friend and I think I sort of still do 

piqueton: but I was in love with someone before, and I can tell it’s not going to work out 

piqueton: and I was just thinking that sometimes you have to move on 

piqueton: you know? 

sex_flabbergast: yeah. actually I do. 

sex_flabbergast: :( 

sex_flabbergast: but I’m happy for you, and I can’t wait to meet her and send me a pic later?? once I meet her and approve, you guys can start dating it’ll be gr9 <3 xoxo gotta go b/c david just pissed off leo and now he’s back???????? lmao shit’s about to go down 

sex_flabbergast has logged off 8:27 am 

 

+ 

 

Leo tapped on the window, still looking furious, the hair near the top of his forehead still dripping wet. David unlocked the car, and Leo settled back into the passenger seat, still glaring at David. “God damn.” 

 

“Goddamn yourself.” 

 

“Don’t talk to me,” Leo seethed. 

 

“You just talked to _me_.” 

 

“I’m literally so close to going Old Testament on your ass.” 

 

David rolled his eyes and counted to ten silently. “I’m sorry I used your face towel instead of clogging up the drain. If you want, I’ll even stop masturbating in the shower, and I’ll start doing it while I’m sitting in bed and you can pretend to be doing your homework, but really be watching me the whole time. How does that sound?” 

 

Leo swallowed. It actually sounded really good. “T-that sounds like I’m going to end up killing my roommate.” 

 

“Too sexy for my shirt.” David tugged at his shirt, biting his lip. “So sexy it hurts.” 

 

“I’m getting out of the car--” 

 

David pulled him back in. “Relax. I’m kidding. I’m not going to pull out my dick in front of you. You know, unless you want me to--” Leo turned to leave again, and David pulled him back. “Joking again. I’m a douche, okay? You already know that. Just let me have my fun and know I’m not serious.” 

 

Leo relaxed against the seat, eyes still narrowed and suspicious. “Whatever.” 

 

David smirked like what was about to come out of his mouth was _even better_. “But in all seriousness, you know like everyone at our school is gay, so you shouldn’t let it freak you out that much, and I am genuinely curious about where you masturbate now. Should we work out a schedule or something?” 

 

Leo let out a moan of frustration. David was hot, like, really hot, but he was also really, really annoying. “First of all, fuck you, because it doesn’t bother me because I’m _not an asshole_ ” And also _not straight_ , but he didn’t say that part out loud. “And no, god, no. I’m not talking about my cock with you.” 

 

“Scheduling though,” David muttered, and he was wearing that smile like he knew he was pissing Leo off and enjoying it. “Gotta work out a schedule.” 

 

“What the fuck do we need a schedule for?” Leo tugged at the seatbelt, forcing himself not to do the crazy eyes. He always did the crazy eyes around David. “It happens. We both know it happens, and now we both know I’m not the one clogging up the drain-- Oh my god, how would it even clog up the drain anyway? I don’t have fucking doritos and rocks coming out of my dick. It’s not just a cascade of gardening tools that lodge themselves in the pipes, cackling maniacally about how they’re disrupting the calming shower of David fucking Villa.” 

 

David just laughed, and he really was beautiful when he laughed, so sharp and bright and everything that hurt to look at. “You’ve got a lot of rage packed into that little body.” 

 

“You’re not very tall either,” Leo snapped. 

 

David smiled again, bumping their shoulders playfully. “I know, that’s why we’re rooming together. They wanted to keep the hobbits in one area to encourage us to behave ourselves.” 

 

It took awhile for a smile to creep onto Leo’s features, but finally he looked up, shook his head ruefully like trying to glare was useless. “It obviously backfired on them.” 

 

“Obviously. They didn’t realize one little hobbit dick could fuck up their shower.” 

 

“For the last fucking time,” Leo snarled, “I do not masturbate in the shower.” 

 

+ 

 

cuntrao: ikerrrrrrr 

paleplumpass: ? what did you do 

cuntrao: wha?t/?

paleplumpass: cris told you to message me only if you fucked something up 

cuntrao: I diDN’T i was just checking to see how things were but he’s not asnwering 

paleplumpass: he’s seeing his mom right now 

cuntrao: awesome! 

cuntrao: and everyone else? 

paleplumpass: leo’s talking about masturbating in the shower so. yeah. normal. 

cuntrao: awesome 

 

+ 

 

d_becks: we have to talk 

paleplumpass: ?? are you fucking kidding me? 

d_becks: Iker, I’m serious. 

d_becks: And not to take away from the seriousness of the situation, but what the fuck is up with your username? 

paleplumpass: i did it to cheer cristiano up 

paleplumpass: what are we talking about? 

d_becks: Victoria is pregnant again. Please. I just need to talk to you. 

paleplumpass: well I’m on the field trip for the rest of the week, so. It can’t be in person. 

d_becks: i’d really like to talk face to face, but maybe I’ll call you?? 

d_becks:... if that’s ok? 

paleplumpass: maybe I’ll pick up. I haven’t decided. 

paleplumpass has logged off 9:00 am 

 

Iker decided it was difficult to perfect the skype equivalent of a storming off with the username paleplumpass, but he did his best and that was all anyone could really ask for. 

 

He wondered why every time he talked to David, his life suddenly turned to shit. Was it because David was bad for him or because their situation was bad and they, together, were right? He wanted, so badly, to understand the bad things that happened to him. He wanted to conquer them and not fear them and not fear David, but he did. He feared not having him and he feared being owned by him, and he just didn’t want to fear at all. 

 

+

 

When Cristiano returned, the car quieted. Iker grabbed him and made him sit in the far back with  Xabi and himself. Leo watched as Cristiano settled in against Iker’s chest, looking stiff and worn out. He let out a quiet sigh and began to tell Iker about his mother’s condition in such a calm, gentle voice that Leo nearly did a double take. 

 

Sergio watched them until Fernando put a hand on his back to calm him down. There was something between them, something tangible in the air that Sergio was just missing. 

 

“You okay?” Fernando asked carefully, rubbing his hand over Sergio’s. 

 

Sergio nodded, but Leo heard his quiet reply: “I miss them. I really miss them. And I think it might be time to apologize.” 

 

+ 

 

It was a long time before they finally reached the broken down church, got all their supplies set up, and joined the other half of the group in their work, but when they did, Ricky pulled Cristiano aside, yanking on his arm until he agreed to follow, yelping the whole way. 

 

“God, Ricky, what the hell. What the--fuck, my arm. Ricky, what--” 

 

They rounded the corner and ended up on the shady side of the Church where it was broken down and deserted. Ricky pushed him gently towards the wall and, finally, dropped his arm. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to--” 

 

“You didn’t.” He rubbed at his arm anyway, just to rub it in that he was a fucking piece of shit and proud of it. “What the hell’s up with you?” 

 

“I like you,” Ricky blurted out. “I like you a lot. I just thought I should tell you because I know you don’t feel the same way and we room together back home, so I just didn’t want to make things awkward, and you have the right to know, and I’m really sorry about your mother, and I’m really sorry about all the shit you have to deal with, but I think you should know that someone thinks you’re perfect despite it all.” 

 

Ricky spoke everything with a perfect sort of clarity, not tripping over a single word, shaking all over, but his eyes were solid and strong. He breathed a sigh of relief after it was finished, like he had done what he’d come to do and it was all easier from there. 

 

Cristiano was leaning heavily against the wall, an astounded expression on his features. His mouth was partially open, and he thought he saw everything. Like, he always saw who was crushing on whom and who they were attracted to and when they were hiding something, but fuck he missed this one. 

 

“Ricky, I--” Ricky just shook his head with a sad sort of smile, looking like he was going to cry. He tried to turn way, but Cristiano grabbed his arm. “No, seriously wait, it’s not that I don’t feel the same way. I--” 

 

“You what?” 

 

“It’s just that...” The tension left Cristiano’s shoulders and he stared at the ground, shaking his head slowly. “It’s just that I’m going to hurt you, and you’re not allowed to get hurt.” Cristiano looked up to meet his gaze with a firm one of his own. “You are _not_ allowed to get hurt,” he repeated, his hand brushing Ricky’s fleetingly before the contact disappeared and Cristiano stepped away from the wall. 

 

He gave Ricky one last unreadable look before walking away, back to his normal self the minute he turned away, shouting obscenities with Iker and gesturing vulgarly. Ricky watched them laugh together, and Cristiano looked so happy and carefree that Ricky knew what he feared was true: he didn’t belong in Cristiano’s world and his world was too breakable for Cristiano. 


	11. Sloppy Firsts ft. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically:   
> d_becks: Iker, are you drunk?

It was after their first day working on the church, they were all exhausted, and David Villa decided bringing alcohol into the picture would be a good thing. He was, _shockingly_ , wrong. 

 

They were sitting in their truth or dare positions again-- which should have immediately alerted every single one of them to the degree of shit the idea was. Iker was on the couch next to Cristiano, Leo and Ricky sat together on the floor, Xabi sat alone in the center of the circle, balancing his drinks on the table, David sat on his throne of an armchair, and Sergio and Fernando claimed the smaller couch on the opposite side of the room. Cesc sat on the carpet in front of Cristiano and Iker, meticulously picking at his fingernails. 

 

David held up his second beer with an elated expression. “Cris, I hereby relinquish my duties as chaperone. This is me handing them off to you.” He passed his beer to Cristiano, dramatically bowing his head and saluting. “Okay, I’ll have that back now.” Cristiano slid the bottle back across the table with a smile. 

 

“Wait--” Leo was playing with the vodka bottle (and the vodka). “Why is he chaperone now? You were already enough of a shitty chaperone. We don’t need _Cristiano_ to make things worse.” 

 

“David already lost two people,” Cristiano pointed out helpfully. “So I can’t really do worse than that.” 

 

“I only lost two people because you went and ran off,” David complained. “And Cristiano is our chaperone, _Leo_ , because I’m about to get so drunk I forget my name and fuck this couch cushion. Adios, muchachos. Adios, reality.” He held up his drink and chugged. 

 

“But why _Cristiano_?” Leo whined, trying to scrub out what he’d just spilled on his shirt. 

 

“He’s the only one who doesn’t drink,” Ricky answered, not looking at Cristiano. His delicate fingers played with the rim of his cup. “Right?” He looked up, but Cristiano was nodding at Leo. 

 

“So I chaperone.” Cristiano opened his soda, trying to ignore how badly he wanted to reach out and tell Ricky that, _yes, I feel the same way, I really, really do, but there’s no way I can act on it because I’m going to fuck everything up and then you’ll be fucked up and I cannot destroy something I love._

 

There was a brief moment of silence as everyone who knew why he didn’t drink uncomfortably looked away and everyone who didn’t know stared at him in confusion. Then David scooted forward in his chair and clapped his hands together, completely oblivious to the developing tension. “Okay, first times, go. Start. Ikerrrrr, you’re up.” 

 

“First times for what?” Cesc asked, licking his lips. Everyone turned to look at him, Ricky red-faced like _even I knew that one_. “Oh. _OhhHHHH_.” Cesc scrunched down in his seat, and Iker moved his hand to cover an adoring smile. 

 

“Iker,” David groaned. “Go. Go. Go. I’m getting bored.” 

 

“Okay, jesus, my first time was the summer before freshman year.” 

 

“Details,” Cristiano demanded, appalled that _that_ was all Iker ever said and he’d never managed to get more out of him. 

 

“It was with a girl. She was pretty, like model pretty. Very... independent. She liked doing her own thing. It wasn’t her first time. She knew what she was doing. It was alright.” Iker spoke the words like he was reading a list. He shrugged. “I don’t know, I just wasn’t that into her.” 

 

“What do you mean you weren’t into this hot, experienced, willing, hot, cool, _hot_ girl?” David demanded, reaching for another drink. 

 

“You forgot to mention hot,” Sergio cut in with his most sarcastic smile. 

 

“She just wasn’t my type.” Iker shrugged again, hating all the attention on him. His face was starting to turn pink and normally he was good at dealing with this sort of stuff, just so long as he didn’t have to get into talking about his _feelings_. And he didn’t really want to address the fact that he wasn’t that into her because-- 

 

“You mean she wasn’t your type as in she didn’t have a penis or she wasn’t your type as in you hated her personality?” Cristiano blurted out, sitting back against the couch cushion and staring at Iker like he was a puzzle. 

 

Iker stared down at his hands. “Uh, first one.” He turned pinker. “Okay, someone else go now. Please. Before my face heats up so much that I spontaneously combust.” 

 

Cristiano sat back and smiled. “Well... _if you insist_.” 

 

Leo groaned. “How do you even remember your first time? Isn’t that like trying to remember the first breath you took after being born.” 

 

“Shut up. I remember because it was freshman year--” 

 

“Iker got laid before you?” Fernando looked scandalized. “I mean-- carry on.” 

 

“Shut up, freckles, if you want to talk about whores, take a look at where your right hand is headed--” He nodded towards Fernando’s lingering touch on Sergio’s inner thigh. 

 

Sergio smiled at Fernando sympathetically like he was used to Cristiano’s passive aggressive outbursts. 

 

“And, you know what, sometimes I don’t think there’s such a thing as a whore at all because we’re all free to do whatever the hell we want and if we want to sleep with a million people, then we can fucking sleep with a million people and--” He took a deep, pleased breath. “I don’t need your sass, you goddamn pale, freckled, blonde douchedick.” He finished with a fuck-you smile in Fernando’s direction. 

 

“Woah,” Cesc interjected quietly. 

 

Sergio glared at Cristiano. “Ok, back off.” 

 

Cristiano shrugged, smiling pleasantly, but there was an annoyed edge to it because _what the fuck_ since when did Fernando become Sergio’s little angel. “I’m only being honest.” 

 

David rolled his eyes and yawned loudly. “Oh my god, then be honest about where you first put your dick because I don’t have time for your drama. Christ almighty. If it isn’t about the game, keep your mouth shut.” He sighed loudly. “Cris, continue, please.” 

 

There was the flicker of a smile from Cristiano. “Right, so my first time was with a male stripper in the back of his car.” He shrugged again. “Shit happens, you know?” 

 

“A male stripper,” David echoed, his voice reverent. 

 

“The back of a car?” Iker looked horrified. 

 

“That had to have been hard on your back,” muttered Fernando. Sergio rubbed his hand soothingly like the concept was too stressful for him to think about alone. 

 

“Uhm, can I just ask why?” Leo was a belligerent drunk. Cristiano liked him best drunk. 

 

“I don’t know.” Cristiano propped his feet up on the coffee table next to Cesc’s face. “I guess because I felt like it. He was hot. Let’s face it, I’m hot--” Everyone groaned. “It was bound to happen. Hot people attract hot people like magnets and if neither of you are very good with, you know, self-restraint when it comes to sex--” 

 

“Shit happens,” they chorused in unison. 

 

“Exactly,” Cristiano replied, wiping away fake tears like a proud teacher. 

 

They all turned to Cesc who promptly turned to Ricky who was meant to be next in line. “Alright,” he said nervously. “Go Ricky.” 

 

“I think it’s your turn,” Ricky said apologetically. “Unless you want me to go--” 

 

“Cesc has to go first,” Iker decided, taking another drink. He wasn’t exactly sure why hearing about Cesc’s sex life would make him want to drink until he passed out but it most definitely did, and that was before he even heard anything. 

 

“Fine.” Cesc looked down at his hands. “I, uh, am technically a virgin, so--” 

 

“WHAT?” David almost stood up. “That is it. I am so done with this city if a hot piece of ass like you cannot even get laid. For god’s sake, you could get laid at a chastity banquet. What the hell is wrong with--” He took another sloppy drink. “--this world?” 

 

“I said _technically_. There are certain, ah, technicalities that I’ve failed to mention in the past.” 

 

“So, just to be clear, you haven’t had a dick up your ass?” Iker threw his empty bottle at David’s head. 

 

“No.” He smiled. “Just blowjobs and stuff. He straightened up like he was proud of it. Ricky was turning increasingly pink as the conversation went on. “Gotten them, you know. And given them.” He licked his lips, completely unaware of Iker shifting uncomfortably on the couch. 

 

“But technically still a virgin,” Sergio said, smirking. 

 

Cesc nodded, unashamed but unwilling to discuss it further. 

 

“Someone should take care of that,” David muttered, holding up his hands innocently when Iker shot him a murderous glare. “Alright, alright, _god_. Ricky, your turn. I bet you’re just full of stories.” 

 

Ricky sighed. “As you all know, I am still a virgin and intend to stay that way until marriage.” 

 

“I don’t get your cult thing,” Cristiano said, waiting for David to finish choking on his drunk, annoying laughter. “Like, why?” 

 

“It’s a special thing for me, to wait.” Ricky was wearing a half-confused, half-frustrated expression, like he couldn’t understand why they didn’t understand him. He was still uncomfortable to sit near Cristiano because of everything that had happened, but Cristiano was the sort of person he couldn’t _not_ be around. “So I will wait until someone special comes along.” 

 

There was a long pause, and then Ricky sighed frustratedly. “And my religion isn’t a cult. It’s something that is important to me, and if I’m important to you--” He paused. “--to _any_ of you-- you’ll respect that.” 

 

Another long stretch of silence extended, and then: “I’m sorry,” Cristiano said softly. No one else spoke; no one else moved. Cristiano didn’t look at Ricky, and Ricky could only flick his eyes over once, but there was something like magic anyway. Or, Ricky thought so. But he didn’t think Cristiano felt it because Cristiano was the sort of person who pushed the good things away for fear of destroying them. 

 

“You’re up, Leo,” Ricky said after a moment. He took a sip of the drink Leo had mixed him. It was mostly soda, and there was very little in it to actually make him drunk, but he was beginning to feel slightly dizzy anyway. Whether that was because of the exchange that had just occurred of the drink itself, he wasn’t sure, but he did feel like he was about to do something stupid. 

 

Leo downed the rest of his drink, coughing as it burned the back of his throat. “Alright.” He clapped his hands together. “Great. Wonderful. Superb. I slept with that girl I told you I used to have a crush on. Antonella. That’s all. Just her. Only girl I’ve ever kissed, only girl I’ve ever slept with.” 

 

“And what about guys?” David licked at the neck of his bottle. “Hm?” 

 

Something crossed Leo’s features, and he looked down to avoid meeting David’s curious gaze. “Okay, I did sleep with my brother’s friend.” He sighed. “Two of my brother’s friends, but those weren’t first times, so...” 

 

“I underestimated you, Leo,” Cristiano laughed. “I really underestimated you.” 

 

Leo covered his face. “Shut up, shut up. Anything that makes you smile makes me want to hurl.” 

 

“I think that’s the vodka actually.” 

 

“Shut the fuck up. David, it’s your turn. I would rather hear about your disgusting sexual escapades than--” He cut off and gestured to Cristiano like there really were no words. 

 

“My first time was with my cousin’s friend at my uncle’s wedding and I originally thought it was my cousin, like, right after, and then I was like so fucking grateful that it wasn’t because I’m not really into the keeping it in the family sort of thing.” He shook his head. “Unless it’s twins. Twins I’d be down for. Twins,” he finished dreamily. 

 

“Guy or girl?” Sergio asked, kicking out lightly to pull David’s attention away from messing with Leo’s hair. 

 

“Guy. Only slept with a girl once and it was not to my liking. I like a nice firm ass to push into, thank you very much, and then I like a nice dick to--” 

 

“OKAY,” Leo said loudly. “THANK YOU. I’m good not hearing the rest.” 

 

There was a pause. “...suck,” David finished quietly. “Pussy is not for me.” 

 

“Someone shut him up. I’m perilously close to puking.” 

 

“I’m perilously close to puking because you just used the word perilous. Fuck you and your fancy words.” 

 

“Fuck you and your....fancy...face.” 

 

Cristiano grinned, and Iker had to nudge his arm to keep him from getting too excited. A good argument always entertained him a little too much. “Me and my fancy face. Curse it. Curse us both.” 

 

Leo filled his glass up again. “I’m going to need this.” 

 

He was right. 

 

Sergio’s first time was behind a dumpster with his babysitter when he was fourteen, Fernando only ever had sex with his quite serious ex-girlfriend, and Xabi fucked his librarian when he was a sophomore. They were good solid stories, and Sergio’s even got a flicker of a smile from both Cristiano and Iker, but they said nothing, and they didn’t even start laughing when he told them he fell on his face afterwards with his pants still down and his butt hanging out. He knew Iker was suppressing a laugh, but the fact that he was suppressing it was what made things so painful. 

 

He didn’t want a drunken apology because drunken apologies were dumb and he would probably end up apologizing for something that wasn’t even his fault in the first place, but he was impatient and reckless and the blood was pounding in his ears, so every chance he got, he tried to mend the gap between them. 

 

When Iker asked for more to drink, Sergio leapt up on wobbly legs and got it for him. He got a freaked out smile in return and Cristiano tripping him on his way back to his seat. _Last time I ever do anything for the two of them_ , he thought, but when Cristiano asked for more soda, he left the room to get it without hesitation. 

 

“So, Cris,” Leo called, downing another glass. He pointed an unsteady finger at Cristiano. “How many people have you slept with?” 

 

“Not nearly enough” was his careless reply. 

 

“But how many?” 

 

“I’m not sure.” 

 

“Don’t you want to count and brag to all of us?” 

 

“Not especially. I don’t want to alarm Fernando. He might collapse.” 

 

“ _I_ might collapse.” 

 

“If you collapsing means you’ll shut the fuck up... really, don’t tempt me to start counting.” 

 

Leo threw up his hands like it was impossible to get a straight answer, and tossed his feet over the coffee table, leaning back against David’s section of the couch. David immediately made room for him to lean on. 

 

Across the room, Iker’s phone vibrated in his pocket. 

 

d_becks: do you have time to talk right now? 

paleplumpass: nooooo bitch nooooo

d_becks: ? what is up with you? 

paleplumpass: yoooo how can you even ask that after everything 

d_becks: iker? are you okay? 

paleplumpass: i’m feelin fresh n spicy right now 

paleplumpass: this is a really good idea 

paleplumpass: i ddnt maen to type taht 

paleplumpass: whateh r 

d_becks: Iker, are you drunk? 

paleplumpass: what u gon do about it 

d_becks: Iker, go to sleep. 

paleplumpass: MOO 

paleplumpass: *NOO 

paleplumpass: this cow ain’t goin to bed so u can shUT the fick up 

paleplumpass: sex is cute 

d_becks: what? 

paleplumpass: sex is really cute 

paleplumpass: he’s cute with his browNN eys 

paleplumpass: i think i might puek 

paleplumpass: HE’s CUTE 

paleplumpass has logged off 2:07 am 

 

Cesc shut his eyes and leaned against Iker’s legs. 

 

After Cesc had gone to sleep, Iker leaned very close to his ear and proceeded to shout “YOU’RE CUTE.” And Cesc remained sleeping. 

 

+ 

 

Their drinking incident, and Iker’s conversation with David, didn’t resurface until their first week back at school. During the first class of the day, they were each extracted from their classroom and brought to the dean’s office. Next to Mr. Mourinho was Mr. Beckham, staring at Iker with the silent apology he knew he could never truly give. 

 

Mourinho sat behind his desk with a mocking, terrifying smile. “So I hear you boys were drinking on your church field trip.” He raised his eyebrows at their shocked faces; Iker stared up at David in utter disbelief, knowing he could only convey how betrayed he felt silently. 

 

“So, just to... you know, put things into perspective for you,” Mr. Mourinho continued, his lips curving into a displeased smile, “you were 1.) drinking underage, 2.) drinking on a school field trip, and 3.) drinking on a _bible study group_ field trip. Now I don’t know how Mr. Beckham was able to catch this, but I trust him entirely, and you will all be punished.” 

 

“Cris wasn’t drinking,” Ricky blurted out, horrified because he’d never been suspended in his life. He never wound up in the Dean’s office. And he also never failed to do the right thing and the right thing was to save at least one of them. “He doesn’t drink. He didn’t drink anything.” 

 

Mr. Mourinho paused, stared at his favorite student, and nodded silently. “Do you remember that part of Game of Thrones where that guy was pleading with Robb Stark that he save his life because he only ‘kept watch’ and didn’t actually kill anyone, but Robb Stark goes ‘Oh, he was only the watcher. Hang him last so he can watch the others die?’ Do you remember that part?” 

 

It was silent and David nervously laughed, “Are you trying to run your school like Game of Thrones because I don’t think you’ll have any students left by the end of the year.” 

 

Mourinho hardly wasted a glance on him. His eyes bored into Cristiano’s. “We’ll hang you last,” he said simply. “Four days suspension for all of you. Cristiano, yours will start next week. You were only there watching after all. Watch them enjoy their four days of suspension and then enjoy yours.” 

 

He gestured to the door, and they had no choice but to file out. 

 

+ 

 

All hell broke loose when the door to Mr. Mourinho’s office shut. Iker started towards Beckham because he wanted to smack him across the face and kiss him and tell him he hated him always and forever. And just ask him why. 

 

He settled for “What the hell?” 

 

Mr. Beckham looked around at the boys’ accusatory expressions. “I-I’m sorry. You know I had to, Iker-- Ah, Mr. Casillas, Mr. Ramos, Mr. Ronaldo-- _all_ of you. I apologize for whatever trouble I’ve caused you, but you know what you were doing was wrong.” 

 

“I have a feeling so did you,” Iker interjected quietly, and Iker had the sort of look in his eyes that made people stop dead in their tracks. It wasn’t sad and it wasn’t angry and it certainly wasn’t forgiveness. It was just a cold, harsh stare like nothing between them had ever happened and never would again. 

 

Mr. Beckham looked down at his hands. “Iker, will you step into my office please for a moment?” 

 

“Sure, Mr. Beckham. Just tell me which way to step though because I wouldn’t want you _telling on me_ for stepping on the wrong flower pattern on the carpet.” Iker smiled innocently, shooting a panicked look over his shoulder at Cristiano and-- completely by accident and mostly out of habit-- Sergio. 

 

The door closed on Cesc looking around in confusion. “I don’t get it. Why does he want to talk to Iker?” 

 

Mr. Beckham sat behind his desk, folding his hands on the surface, tightly, like he was struggling to keep it together. He looked older than the last time Iker had seen him, more put together and more professional, more like the first time Iker met him. And Iker wondered if David had changed for him. 

 

“Mr. Casillas, I’m your teacher.” He straightened his tie because suddenly it was difficult to breathe because Iker was sitting across from him, and he was in love with him, but there wasn’t a thing in the world he could do about it. 

 

“Yeah, that didn’t stop you from fucking me.” Iker swallowed. “On this desk.” 

 

“Mr. Casillas,” David sighed. “I am your teacher and I must ask you to respect me as such.” 

 

“This is what you wanted to talk about?” Iker sneered. “Your wife is pregnant again and all you wanted to tell me was ‘Oh, by the way, respect me even though I haven’t done a thing in the world to deserve it.’” 

 

“The thing I’ve done to deserve it is be your superior.” A warning. “And that’s it. You respect me or you’ll be punished for it.” 

 

“Yeah? Like you’ve punished me in the past?” Iker asked dryly. And that wasn’t a warning; that was a threat. 

 

David just stared back stonily, not even momentarily distracted. “Mr.--” 

 

“No, shut up. Don’t ask me to respect you and don’t ask me to act like just another one of your students because I’m not and I never will be. I believe respect should only be given when it’s deserved, not because you’re my superior, not because you’re my teacher, not because I’m in love with you-- because it’s deserved.” There was something feral in Iker’s voice, like he had been holding everything back for so long, something triggered it, and finally he was his anger and bitterness incarnate. 

 

“Iker, please--” 

 

Iker didn’t pause for a second. “I used to respect you because you respected me and I thought that was a really cool thing, that you respected someone so young. I thought it was awesome that you weren’t one of those people who believed I had nothing in my brain just because I’m seventeen years old and know nothing about life. I used to respect you, David, because you didn’t have this massive stick up your ass, because you weren’t afraid to care about me, because I wasn’t even thinking about your _loyalty,_ or lack of it.” 

 

David let out a shaky sigh, halfway to the crazy kind of laugh Iker fell in love with after they first kissed, like they were both falling for something so crazy that it could mask the disgusting reality that they both knew would end up crushing their perfect, crazy suspended disbelief. 

 

Iker paused, briefly. “But my head is clear now, and apparently so is yours. You’ve made your decision and I’ve made mine. I will not respect you and I will not give you the respect you think you deserve, even in class, even in front of our Dean. Get my friends’ suspensions cleared or people will know what happened between us. If you think I’m lying, think again.” 

 

He stood up and pushed his chair forward. They looked at each other and David’s eyes were wide with something close to fear. “I can’t do that, Iker. The most I can do is make a case to let you all play in the game this weekend despite being suspended.” 

 

“Fine.” He turned to the door, but paused at the last second. “By the way, congratulations.” He slammed the door on his way out, the tears burning his eyes. 

 

+ 

 

“I can’t believe they suspended you for that though,” Steven said, shaking his head. He was sitting on Esteban’s bed across from Xabi, trying to keep his distance because Xabi was upset and it would be wrong to kiss him when he was upset, right? Or maybe it would be the right thing? Oh god, this relationship thing really wasn’t as easy as it should have been. Maybe he was just overcomplicating things like he always did? 

 

“Well. It makes sense, really, but--” 

 

“Don’t make excuses for them, Xabi. Be mad.” 

 

“I can’t be mad,” Xabi sighed, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “It makes sense. I’m mad I have to miss class and that a suspension is on my record, but I can’t say I don’t deserve it. At least I get to play this weekend.” 

 

Steven rolled his eyes. “You get to stay in your room for four days. That is hardly a punishment.” 

 

“What part of ‘on my record’ don’t you understand?” Xabi snapped, glaring at Steven like he’d never truly seen him before. 

 

“Okay, look--” Steven hesitated, then crossed the room to sit down next to Xabi. He took his hand and smiled reassuringly. “You worry about too much. You’re incredibly smart and wonderful and responsible and, yeah, does one suspension suck and possibly damage your chances of getting into a school? Yeah, it does, but it happened and you just have to move on and accept that you’re wonderful despite fucking up a little. You’re going to get in _somewhere_.” 

 

“Easy for you to say.” 

 

“Why is it easy for me to say?” Steven laughed. “What? Because I’m mediocre in every possible way? Because there is nothing about me that sets me apart and I’ve already accepted that? So I have no expectations on me because people have already accepted that I won’t accomplish anything?” 

 

“No, that’s not what I--” 

 

“You don’t realize what you have, Xabi,” he groaned. “You’re so fucking smart and good at everything you try. You play the piano, you play the violin, you get perfect grades, you play football. There is nothing you can’t do--” 

 

Xabi muttered something, and Steven plowed right through his words. 

 

“-- and yet you’re sitting there whining on your bed about one thing you fuck up. Look around you. Look at all the people who fuck up _everything_ they try. This is Sergio’s second suspension _this semester_ alone. I can barely pull a C in maths. You’re lucky, Xabi. You’re lucky and you’re perfect, but you’re also a fucking whiner.” 

 

Xabi was silent, and then he looked up with a serious expression. “I can’t dance.” 

 

“I--what?” 

 

“You said there was nothing I can’t do. I can’t dance.” 

 

“That is your response? I told you you’re a whiner and you tell me you can’t dance?” 

 

Xabi nodded. He pecked an embarrassed, hurried kiss to Steven’s cheek. “I am lucky.” 

 

“I--” 

 

“No,” Xabi said, avoiding his gaze. “I mean I’m lucky because I have you.” 

 

Steven laughed to disguise his blush and stood up, pulling Xabi with him. “You said you couldn’t dance, huh?” He flipped open Xabi’s laptop, went to his iTunes, and started a loud, guilty pleasure of Xabi’s. “YOU HAVE ONE DIRECTION ON HERE?” 

 

“Oh my god, shut that off.” 

 

“No, we’re dancing.” Steven waved his arms around uncomfortably. “I’m bad at dancing too, but I have to see you dance because it will make me feel better about not being able to do anything myself.” 

 

Xabi waved his arms reluctantly. “There you go.” 

 

He tried to sit back down, but Steven pulled him closer. “...TELL ME TELL ME TELL ME HOW TO TURN YOUR LOVE ON” and suddenly they were dancing, not well at all, but it felt good to just jump around and wave their arms and not worry what anyone was thinking. He felt like he was in an empty store with just Stevie, throwing around porcelain plates and they were smashing and crashing and breaking all around them because _StevieandXabi_ were the only thing permanent in the world. 

 

The door opened and Esteban walked in. He cocked his head to listen to the song. “Mainstream,” he muttered, adjusting his glasses. “I heard about them way before the X Factor.” 

 

+ 

 

Cristiano was resting in Iker’s room, patting his leg every so often as Iker groaned into his pillow about asphyxiating himself. “We’re done. Like. Completely done.” He sat up, his eyes darker and shinier than ever. “I’m fucked.” 

 

“You’re not fucked. You haven’t been fucked for awhile. I think that’s why you’re cranky all the time.” Cristiano poked his cheek. 

 

“Shut up,” Iker groaned. “I mean, it’s...” He bit his lip. “Weird to be without him, but--” His expression went from vulnerable and confused to solid and no-mercy-I-will-kill-your-soul in seconds. “I’m over it. It’s fine. I’m moving on. This is good.” 

 

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that you’re not upset. I love when you lie to yourself because it always ends in you freaking out over breakfast. It’s always _breakfast._ Remember when you failed that Chem test sophomore year and you threw oatmeal at Sergio? God, that was the best...” Cristiano’s smile lessened slightly at the mention of Sergio. 

 

And then the door opened and Iker muttered, “Speak of the devil.” 

 

Sergio stared at them for a moment before knocking on the wall next to the door. “Uh, can I come in?” 

 

“You’re already in,” Iker 

 

“That’s what she said,” Sergio blurted out nervously. “Shit.” He bit his knuckle. “That’s not what I meant to say. I came in to--” He stared at Cristiano who was trying to hold back a smirk and Iker shaking his head like nothing had changed, and he knew they were right. _Nothing had changed_. “I came in here to apologize.” 

 

Iker sat up. Cristiano bit his nails. Neither of them looked directly at him. 

 

“I was wrong to get mad at you,” he said, looking at Iker. “I’m sorry and I don’t know how to do one of those grand apologies, but I’ll do it if you need it because I miss you.” He looked at Cristiano. “I miss both of you. You were just trying to patch things up and I blew you off. And I’m so sorry.” 

 

Iker looked away, but Cristiano nodded easily. “Look, there’s hardly anything to forgive. We all did something wrong. I miss the way things used to be.” He nudged Iker’s elbow. “And there are too many things to be upset about without rejecting your apology.” 

 

Iker sighed. “Fine, you’re forgiven.” 

 

Sergio stepped back uncomfortably. “It’s okay if you--” 

 

Iker shut his eyes briefly. “No, seriously, you are. I miss you too, but you’re a complete dick sometimes.” 

 

A ghost of a smile flitted across Sergio’s features. “I know.” There was a pause and Iker picked at his fingernails. “So... are we good?” 

 

“No. Better. We’re back to normal.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said I would put this on the next few chps so: My twitter is @sanikersaves. I always tweet spoilers while I'm writing/reading fanfics, so feel free to follow and tweet me anytime. 
> 
> moral of every story: bringing alcohol into the picture makes everything go wrong and will also make you puke (example: this chapter) 
> 
> story notes:   
> -No, I'm not a directioner, but nothing shouts guilty pleasure like a one direction song. fuck my entire life.   
> -the porcelain plates breaking reference is from Cloud Atlas (seriously watch the scene it's so cute)   
> -"throne of an armchair" for David Villa because goddamn as much as I don't especially like him because of who he plays for... goddamn. The soulpatch.   
> -Cesc licking his lips is a recurring theme in this chapter because Cesc Fabregas should always be licking his lips and I should always be there to watch it's like porn I s2g   
> -The Game of Thrones reference because The Red Wedding :( :( :( And life as we know it is destroyed. Now I'm just a puddle of tears.


	12. Cherry (Cut Me Loose)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cesc is convinced he's not experienced enough for Iker.   
> Iker realizes something.   
> Cristiano and Ricky. That is all.   
> Sergio and Fernando are.... friends??? hm???   
> And David finds out where Leo masturbates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 6 a.m. and I haven't slept at all!!! typos probably exist! if this is shit, I expect you to tell me. I love every single one of my readers and commenters and kudos-ers. You guys are amazing. Here is a kiss for every single one of you. Thank you for putting up with my ridiculousness. 
> 
> twitter: @sanikersaves   
> tumblr: crinklies   
> (shamelessly self promoting because I need more people who enjoy gay fanfiction)

They were back to normal at breakfast and, as Cristiano had predicted three days before, Iker blew up. He tossed around his cereal in the bowl murderously before glaring up at Cristiano and Sergio. “Why the fuck are you smiling?” 

 

“Oh no,” murmured Sergio, struggling not to check over his shoulder for Fernando. They hadn’t talked in two days, and he was beginning to wonder if something was wrong or if they had just reached the stage in their friendship where they could go a few days without speaking, meet up, and have everything go back to normal right away. 

 

“He’s in a mood,” Cristiano announced. His blazer was open again, his tie loose, and Sergio honestly believed that him missing out on uniform detention every single day was one of life’s great mysteries. 

 

“A mood,” echoed Xabi, sitting down with a grin, just pleased to see the trio reunited. “Oh _god_ , not a _mood_.” 

 

“Aren’t people constantly in moods?” Fabio asked, peeking out from around Cristiano’s shoulder. Iker thought he looked like a rabbit, and he was about to tell him so, but Cristiano kicked him under the table with a warning look. 

 

“Yeah, but Iker’s _in a mood_ ,” Sergio emphasized, shooting him a look. 

 

Iker threw his spoon down. “Shut the fuck up.” 

 

“Aww, a tantrum,” cooed Xabi. 

 

“I love his tantrums,” Cristiano said, reaching over to slap lightly at Iker’s cheek like he was a child. 

 

“His tantrums turn me on,” Sergio agreed, nodding with one of the filthiest smiles Iker had ever seen. 

 

“Everything turns you on,” Cristiano scoffed. 

 

“True.” Sergio tossed half a waffle in his mouth. “But. Iker in one of his moods, tying me up? That turns me on to an infinite degree.” 

 

“I’m not sure if what you just said makes sense, but--” 

 

“SHUT THE FUCK UP.” His hands were balled into fists, and he even stamped his foot. 

 

Cristiano stifled his laugh. “It _is_ hot.” 

 

Iker glared at the staff room entrance into which David had just disappeared. “I hate him so much. I feel like my blood is on fire. Is my blood on fire?” Iker fanned his face crankily. 

 

“Dude, I thought you loved David? He’s, like, awesome,” Xabi said, shoveling oatmeal into his mouth. Iker thought he was an oatmeal person in every way imaginable, and he wasn’t sure how that was meant to be an insult or why he was insulting Xabi of all people, but God, what an _oatmeal person_ he was. 

 

“No,” Iker snapped. “I hate him.” Xabi looked at him questioningly. “He gave me an 82 on my essay.” Sergio and Cristiano looked at each other, and Iker’s glare intensified as he sensed their silent conversation. “Finish your fucking oatmeal, Xabi.” 

 

+ 

 

sergiofuckingramos: heyy sorry we haven’t talked for a couple days it would have been too weird to apologize to cris+iker and then bail 

nando_torres: that’s ok I get it :) 

sergiofuckingramos: thanks man 

sergiofuckingramos: listen u shld come to watch practice tonight it’ll be fun 

sergiofuckingramos: we can head over and watch rec practice to see leo after if you want?? 

nando_torres: hm 

nando_torres: hmmmmm 

nando_torres: you’re being really nice what are you trying to get from me 

sergiofuckingramos: omg nothing I swear I just thought it would be cool to hang out 

nando_torres: are you sure you don’t want to hang out with iker and cris instead? 

sergiofuckingramos: uhhhhhh I sort of thought we could 

sergiofuckingramos: you know, all hang out together? 

sergiofuckingramos: maybe????? 

nando_torres: tell your boyfriend to put his claws away and it’s a date 

sergiofuckingramos: cristiano will be nice I promise 

sergiofuckingramos: or, not nice, but 

sergiofuckingramos: you know, he’ll be cristiano 

nando_torres: that’s what I’m worried about 

nando_torers: see you then 

nando_torres has logged off 8:43 am 

 

+

 

Cesc was pacing, and he was meant to be finishing his homework because he was suspended and there wasn’t much else to do at 9 am on a Tuesday when he was hardly allowed outside of his room. But he couldn’t focus because all he could think about was their dumb game of “first times” and how he wasn’t embarrassed when he’d said it, and how, looking back on it, he _was embarrassed_. 

 

Gerard was lounging on his bed, checking the clock every so often because his Gym class was canceled and he only had like an hour left to take a nap and he hadn’t even fallen asleep yet. But, seriously, how was he supposed to fall asleep when Cesc was fucking pacing like that. 

 

“Seriously, the fuck is your problem?” 

 

Cesc shook his head for a second like he wasn’t going to answer, and Gerard almost happily turned over to sleep when Cesc burst out, “I’m a virgin. I don’t have enough experience and Iker isn’t going to like me, and the only thing I’ve ever done is, okay, suck a cock like twice, three times? And I just-- okay, everyone else knows what they’re doing and everyone else has...done it. I’m just--” He sat back down on his bed and groaned. “Who am I kidding? I’m a sophomore, inexperienced, gross-looking. Why would I ever think he would be interested in me?” 

 

Gerard sighed, muttered “shit” into his hands because he hated having to deal with Cesc’s emotional meltdowns, but that was in the best friend job description, and he never really had it in him to say no to anything Cesc asked for. 

 

“Look, first of all, you’re not gross-looking. If I didn’t hate your personality so much, I would totally fuck you.” He laughed, and it sounded hollow to his ears, but Cesc smiled despite himself.  

 

“But I don’t want that. I don’t want Iker to just fuck me--” He paused. “Okay, I would like him to fuck me, but I also want him to, I don’t know, kiss me and not be ashamed of it. He’s going to be ashamed of it if I can’t do anything properly.” 

 

Gerard groaned and put a pillow over his face. “Oh my god, Cesc, seriously. Iker is the sort of person that would be into the fact that you’re a virgin. Like, he’d totally love corrupting that.” 

 

“No, he wouldn’t. He’s going to think I’m shit at everything.” Cesc pouted. 

 

“He’s not going to think you’re shit at everything because you guys haven’t even done anything.” Gerard’s voice was muffled and annoyed. “This is you freaking out over something that hasn’t happened and might never happen.” 

 

Cesc sighed. Gerard tensed, waiting for his friend’s response. He poked his face out from beneath the pillow to peer at Cesc. A dirty sock came flying at his face, and then, “Fine, asshole, but I still want to be--” 

 

“Experienced,” Gerard groaned. “ _Fine_ , find someone to fuck who wants the same thing. Make sure you don’t really like them and you don’t really respect them because then it’s a mutual sort of ‘ew go away’ kind of thing.” 

 

Cesc curled his legs underneath him and stared back at Gerard with his eyes all squinty. Gerard almost smiled, almost told him, _god you seriously look adorable like that, can you please fuck off._ He rubbed at his sleepy eyes instead and pretended he saw nothing. 

 

“Find someone to fuck?” Cesc looked surprised even though Gerard had given the most obvious answer there was. Cesc blinked. “Alright.” He stood up. “Alright, I will.” 

 

Gerard bit his lip because Cesc was innocent in ways he didn’t even understand. He was the sort of person that looked and acted like he was getting fucked nightly, but when it came down to it, he was the guy who laughed nervously right before and made sex jokes instead of lighting candles and maybe never got around to sticking it in because something was on television and god he was fucking lazy and porn was easier because then at least he didn’t have anyone to impress. 

 

As much as Gerard wanted Cesc for himself, and as much as he wanted Cesc to be happy, there was also a part of him that wanted Cesc to be happy with Iker, and he needed a push in the right direction. They both did. 

 

“Just, ask Iker, okay? Just ask him what he thinks of the whole idea of you...you know, finding someone to fuck you because you want to be more experienced. Okay?” 

 

“What?” Cesc looked confused. “Why would I ask Iker?” 

 

Gerard rubbed at his forehead. _Literally the stupidest human being on earth._ “Just fucking do it, alright?” Cesc stared back blankly. “To see if he gets jealous, you stupid piece of shit. Now shut up and let me sleep.” 

 

+ 

 

Iker was helping Cesc study for a history test later that day. Cesc decided being suspended didn’t suck because it 1.) meant more time with Iker, 2.) meant less time in class, and 3.) more _alone_ time with Iker. 

 

“...so then the Romans invaded and it created this whole big mess right here.” Iker pointed at the map on the table. “Now because they invaded here, who do you think they’re going to run into?” He looked up at Cesc expectantly. 

 

Cesc was staring back at him, his expression full of wonder. “Can I ask you a question?” 

 

Iker sighed. He set his pencil aside. “I have a feeling this doesn’t have to do with history?” 

 

Cesc shrugged, and his cheeks were pink in splotches. Iker wondered if he had a fever. “Not really. I was, uhm, okay...” He swallowed. “So, you know we were talking about first times while we were on the field trip last week, and I was, like, the only one who hadn’t--” He nervously checked around their table. “...you know, _done anything_.” 

 

Iker shifted uncomfortably. “And?” 

 

“I--” Cesc cleared his throat, and when that wasn’t enough to steady himself, he tugged at his sleeves until they covered his hands. “I just--” 

 

“You okay?” Iker almost smiled at him pulling at his sleeves. He put a comforting hand on Cesc’s to make him stop, but it seemed to only make matters worse. 

 

Cesc looked alarmed, finally just blurting out, “I need more experience otherwise no one is going to like me and Gerard suggested I fuck someone, but I don’t know who to fuck, and I thought maybe I would ask for your advice. And now it sounds like I’m trying to invite you to be that fuckable person, but that’s not it at all. Not that you’re not fuckable. God, you’re fuckable. I just--” 

 

Iker snickered. 

 

Cesc paled. “Oh god. Did I just say that out loud? I ramble when I’m nervous. My palms are sweaty.” He blew on his fingers. “Oh my god, how many more things can I fuck up?” 

 

Iker leaned forward so he could speak more quietly, still laughing under his breath. “Cesc, don’t be stupid. You don’t have to fuck anyone to be--I don’t know-- desirable. If someone likes you, they’re going to like you whether you’ve fucked 200 people or no one or anything in between.” 

 

Cesc’s features softened into sad disappointment. “I know. I just really like this person, and I think he thinks I’m, like, a little kid. And I’m not. I’m growing up. I’m practically all grown up.” He puffed out his chest. “I’m old enough, and I want him to take me seriously.” 

 

Iker’s eyes flicked to the table, and he remembered feeling that way with David and how painful that was, and the thought of Cesc going through the same pain hit him like a ton of bricks. “If someone isn’t taking you seriously, just forget them,” he growled. “And they’re obviously not worth your time if you think they would care about the fact that you haven’t slept with someone.” 

 

A faint smile appeared on Cesc’s lips. “You really think that? That it doesn’t matter?” 

 

“It doesn’t matter one bit,” Iker assured him. He tapped his history notebook. “Look, Cesc, someone is going to like you someday because of who you are, not because of the things you’ve done. Okay?” 

 

Cesc nodded, “Okay.” 

 

Iker instructed him to read a section of the book, and Cesc bent his head to squint at the tiny text. Iker watched him, and for a moment-- just a moment, but it was enough-- he felt like everything bad in the world was melting away, and all that was important was protecting Cesc from the same pain Iker had inflicted upon himself when he first met David. 

 

And Cesc forgot all about his plans to find someone else because nothing could replace Iker. 

 

+ 

 

David was throwing a ball against the wall, and Leo thought his head was going to explode. David had been throwing that ball against that very same wall--coincidentally right next to Leo’s desk-- for the past half hour straight. 

 

“I’m bored,” he said finally. 

 

“Go on your computer.” Leo remained hunched over his desk, trying to finish the week’s worth of math homework he had to make up because of the field trip. It was worth it and all, but who wanted to do a week’s work of math homework in one night? 

 

“I can’t. Everything’s down. Why do you think I’ve been throwing a fucking ball at the wall?” 

 

Leo sighed dramatically. “Would you please shut up? I’m trying to finish all this homework, and you’re really just being annoying.” 

 

“Am I always annoying?” 

 

“Pretty much, yeah.” 

 

“Is there ever a time when you don’t find me annoying?” 

 

“Nope, not really.” 

 

“What about when you’re picturing me masturbating?” 

 

“Oh my god,” Leo groaned. “Fuck you. Why can’t we go two days without talking about you masturbating?” 

 

“I don’t know.” David threw the ball again. “I just thought it was a good topic of discussion. I’m just trying to give you new material to picture because we both know what you picture when you get down to business.” He winked. “Me, by the way. That’s what I was implying.” 

 

Leo hated that he wasn’t far off. “No, yeah, I got that. I actually understood what you were implying from the way you came right out and said it.” 

 

David spun around in his desk chair, humming to himself. “But seriously, where do you masturbate? Because I’ve been wondering for the past few days, and if it’s not in the shower, and it’s not in bed when you think I’m asleep... when is it? I’m going to have to come visit you in the locker rooms after practice sometime and see if maybe...” He smirked when Leo avoided his gaze. 

 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Leo struggled to return to his homework. 

 

“I’m not kidding. That’s my guess. The locker rooms after practices and games. AM I RIGHT?” He climbed on top of his bed, and raised his arms to the heavens. “Just tell me, Leo. Am I right?” 

 

Leo didn’t answer. 

 

David shrieked, whipped off his shirt, and started dancing. “I KNEW IT. LEO MASTURBATES IN THE LOCKER ROOM. LEO MASTURBATES IN THE LOCKER ROOM.” 

 

And he continued to shout about it until Leo climbed up on the bed with him and whacked him across the face with his calculator cover. 

 

+ 

 

sergiofuckingramos: AFTER PRACTICE TONIGHT 

sergiofuckingramos: we’re hanging out with nando 

sergiofuckingramos: I WILL NOT TAKE NO FOR AN ANSWER 

CR7: tell freckles to buckle up 

CR7: he’s in for an interesting night 

sergiofuckingramos: don’t be a bitch 

CR7: what are you talking about I’m never a bitch 

sergiofuckingramos: CRISTIANO RONALDO 

sergiofuckingramos: I LIKE HIM OKAY 

CR7: oh really? I couldn’t tell from the way you shamelessly glue your eyes to his ass 

CR7: or the way you drool whenever he brushes his ridiculous alpaca hair out of his eyes 

CR7: not even your dreamy laughter when he so much as breathes gave it away 

CR7: DO YOU MEAN TO SAY YOU’RE GAY? 

CR7: WHAT? SERGIO??? WHAT???? YOU????????????? 

sergiofuckingramos: i’m going to fucking kill you 

sergiofuckingramos: BE NICE TONIGHT 

sergiofuckingramos has logged off 3:05 pm 

 

sergiofuckingramos: IKERRRRR 

sergiofuckingramos: we’re hanging out with nando and cris after practice tonight 

paleplumpass: oh my god for the last fucking time I said NO TO ORGIES 

paleplumpass: NO TO ORGIES 

paleplumpass: it worries me that you’re not answering 

sergiofuckingramos: sorry I was too busy taking apart my sex dungeon 

sergiofuckingramos: you ruined my plans 

paleplumpass: sometimes i want to smack you across the face 

sergiofuckingramos: *ass 

sergiofuckingramos: “sometimes I want to smack your ass” 

sergiofuckingramos: there fixed it 

paleplumpass: i’m ignoring you 

sergiofuckingramos: AFTER PRACTICE 

sergiofuckingramos: I WILL DRAG YOU 

paleplumpass: where’s the emoticon for flipping someone off? 

sergiofuckingramos: BE THERE 

sergiofuckingramos has logged off 3:17 pm 

 

+ 

 

Practice was excruciating because Iker kept watching Cesc, and he couldn’t understand why. Iker almost fell on top of Sergio when Cesc bit his lip, and he kept having all these thoughts running through his head about Cesc, thoughts about doing things he couldn’t even admit to himself in the privacy of his own brain. So practice was excruciating for a number of reasons, but mainly because Iker was trying to hide a boner. 

 

And Cristiano, naturally, decided it was a perfect day to bring the motherfucking rain. He didn’t miss once, and Iker was left on the ground multiple times, going back and forth between fantasizing about Cesc and smacking Cristiano across the face for being such a smug, talented bastard. He couldn’t decide which fantasy was more appealing. 

 

He was angry and confused and sticky with sweat. Cristiano was dribbling towards him again, moving fluidly away from Andres who had fed him the ball. Before he could even get the shot away, Iker charged, dove, and rolled away with the ball cradled in his arms. He whispered a silent thank you to whatever god willed that to happen. 

 

“A little off your game today,” Cristiano called from the ground. “Mind helping me up?” 

 

Iker drop-kicked the ball to the other side, mindful of how close it came to Cesc, and suddenly he was obsessing over Cesc touching the ball that he, Iker, had kicked over, and god, why was that such an exciting thought for him? It was literally just a fucking ball. 

 

He pulled Cristiano to his feet. “I’m a little off for a reason, so if you want to take this opportunity to not be an asshole, that would be really nice.” 

 

Cristiano smirked. “What the hell is up with you now?” 

 

Iker leaned forward to whisper his answer, but he lost his nerve. He leaned back again, shaking his head. “I’m going out of my mind. I think...I think I might have a thing for Cesc? I don’t know, at least his ass. Look at his ass. God. Kill me. He’s a sophomore. I’m still fucked up over David, and now I’m picturing Cesc-- god, he’s only a sophomore.” 

 

It hurt Iker to say David’s name still because he thought he was in love with him, but everything with Cesc was coming at him so fast that he hardly had time to process. 

 

Cristiano lit up, and he didn’t even have to check behind him to know where the ball was. He instinctively moved to where he knew Bastian would play the pass. “Yeah, a hot, virgin sophomore. Oh my god, this is the most exciting thing you’ve told me all year?” 

 

Iker frowned. “Why are you more excited about--” 

 

“Dude, the goal. I’m about to score on you.” He turned and, in an instant, the ball was at his feet. He dribbled towards Iker with a manic grin. His trademark stepovers were flying, and Iker was trying to focus, but Cesc was stretching on the side. Stretching. 

 

_Stretching_. 

 

The ball made a whoosh as it hit the back of the net. Iker was left with a mouthful of grass and a mind full of horrifying-- _wonderful_ \-- things. 

 

+ 

 

Practice was over, and Fernando met Sergio at the locker room door. Sergio was still sweaty from practice, and he was trying to keep an eye on Cristiano and Iker who were having a whispered conversation near the showers. Cristiano was laughing and smiling, casting glances over at someone in the corner, and Iker was flipping the fuck out, waving his hands and grabbing at his face, the whole works. Sergio even saw him mouth the words “ _his ass_ ”, and he had no doubt the conversation would be an interesting one, but Fernando was standing in front of him, and all the gossip in the world couldn’t tear Sergio away from the feeling that Fernando was something he would come across once in a lifetime. 

 

“So...” Fernando stood shyly in the doorway. “Where are we going now?” 

 

“I thought we could just hang out, watch Leo’s practice or something?” Fernando nodded, and Sergio moved a little closer, let their hands brush. “Look, I know my friends aren’t the easiest people to get along with, Cristiano especially, but they’re my best friends for a reason, so please. Please just trust that there is something worth loving in them just as they are.” 

 

Fernando sighed, and the locker room lights were reflected in his eyes, and Sergio felt like nothing would ever happen again. He felt like just that moment existed and they were frozen in time and it didn’t matter what they talked about or did, just as long as they were together. 

 

When Fernando spoke again, his voice was quiet and his hand fell into Sergio’s. “I trust how you see them, and I see that you love them, but I don’t. And that is something you’re going to have to trust _me_ on.” 

 

Sergio gave him a funny look and tightened his grip around Fernando’s hand. “Fair enough. You hate them, I love them. Where does that leave us?” 

 

“Same place we’ve always been.” Fernando laughed. “Or, okay, maybe not always been, but you know what I mean. Ever since we became friends. That’s where we are.” 

 

“And where is that?” Sergio smirked, but there was something buried deep in his expression that Fernando couldn’t read. 

 

He blushed, and Sergio thought he was one of the few people in the world who could make blushes, freckles, and dyed blonde hair so beautiful. “You know, friends.” But he said it so unconvincingly that Sergio smiled. 

 

“Nando?” 

 

“Mhm?” 

 

“Will you come out with me sometime? Like a date? Like, once we’re not suspended anymore and we can leave campus?” Sergio was rubbing nervously at the tattoo behind his ear. 

 

Fernando smiled. He nodded, and their hands remained intertwined. 

 

+ 

“No, I actually had a good time with you tonight, freckles. I’m glad you’re dating Horse because it’s fucking pathetic the way he--” Cristiano ducked into his room as Sergio lurched to slap him. “I love you, blondie. If it doesn’t work out with Sergio, just remember--” He slammed the door on Sergio trying to attack him. “I love you. You were mine first, peach ass.” 

 

Cristiano laughed at himself, mentally applauded himself for being so clever, and moved to sit down on his bed, suddenly really pissed at the fact that he hadn’t finished his homework and fuck, he had a lot of makeup work. 

 

Ricky was already in his striped pajama bottoms, sitting on his bed like he’d been about to crawl under the covers and start reading the Bible for the millionth time. Cristiano rolled his eyes. “Hey there.” 

 

“Hey,” Ricky replied softly. 

 

They were both quiet for a long time, and Cristiano stripped down to his boxers, trying not to notice that Ricky flinched when he removed his shirt. He tried to tell himself that it was because Ricky found him repulsive and not what he knew to be true, that Ricky cared about him more than Cristiano thought possible. 

 

“I hope things aren’t going to be awkward between us,” Ricky said, and his voice was still so quiet and unassuming that it broke Cristiano’s heart clean in two. 

 

He smiled, wordlessly at first, and then, “They aren’t. Things aren’t going to be awkward. I didn’t mean to make you feel like...” He moved his hands around helplessly, desperately searching for the right words. “..you know, it’s not your fault. At all. I hope I haven’t hurt you in any way.” 

 

Ricky just shrugged with a helpless sort of smile, like, well what are you going to do? 

 

Cristiano’s half-smile disappeared entirely. “I just don’t know how to act around you.” He laughed nervously, but nothing was funny. “I feel like I’m crushing you with my every word.” 

 

“I’m not as fragile as you think.” And Ricky was staring at him with such a bold, curious expression that Cristiano blinked. And then Ricky was standing up and walking over to Cristiano’s bed, sitting down in front of him and repeating the same words, “I’m not as fragile as you think.” He pressed his lips to Cristiano’s with every intention of breaking. 

 

Their clothes landed in a pile on the floor, and it was easier not to speak. 

 

 

 

 


	13. ...And Then There Was One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of sleeping with Cristiano Ronaldo ft. the continuation of sernando, gerlonso getting complicated, fabsillas being fabsillas, messilla fucking with my mind.   
> (this is sort of a mess of a chapter).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, wrote this at 3 am and I only checked over once for typos. Let me know if you find any atrocious ones that absolutely need to be fixed.   
> Your comments make me smile so much my cheeks hurt. I love every single one of you. Thank you for reading this mess.

Cristiano woke up, and to Ricky, it was like heaven and hell were in one tiny space, and his heaven contained everything he would go to hell for. Cristiano’s hair was messy and curly in places, and Ricky had seen him wake up hundreds of times before, but it was different to wake up next to him, naked, with the realization that he had abandoned his promise to himself. 

 

Cristiano smiled, his hand balled into a fist around the sheet. “Hey, Ricky.” He froze, looked down. “Oh. Shit. Fuck. Hey. _Ricky_.” 

 

Ricky brushed his hair out of his eyes, and tried to ignore the fact that there was a damp spot on the sheets. He didn’t say anything for a long time, and Cristiano just laid there next to him, eyeing the clock and knowing he had to go, but feeling the weight of the previous night’s decision resting on his shoulders. For once, it was an actual decision, it felt real, it wasn’t just something that _happened._  

 

“Please don’t treat me like a mistake,” Ricky said softly, and he heard Cristiano sigh, mutter _fuck_ under his breath, and it reminded him too much of last night to not press a gentle kiss to Cristiano’s collarbone. “Please, Cris. I don’t think I could handle it if I’m just your mistake.” 

 

“You’re not my mistake,” Cristiano replied. He tucked the sheet over Ricky without meeting his gaze. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes, Ricky, and you’re not one of them.” 

 

He hesitated. “What am I?” 

 

Cristiano threw off the covers. “I don’t fucking know. I don’t know shit about relationships, and I’m warning you right now--” 

 

“You’re going to hurt me,” Ricky finished for him with a mocking smile. “I know.” 

 

“And what, you’re okay with that? You’re okay with me fucking you, you breaking your promise-- you’re okay with me _hurting_ you.” 

 

There was another long pause, and Cristiano shook his head, stood up to get ready for classes, and once he started moving around, Ricky opened his mouth, hesitated for just a moment longer, and then, “I’m okay with _you_ , you know. Just as you are.” 

 

Cristiano had his back turned to him, but Ricky could tell he had smiled. 

 

“And I’ve already admitted I’m gay, so you’d think taking a dick up my ass wouldn’t really be a surprise to God.” 

 

Cristiano nearly choked. 

 

+ 

piqueton: SOOO how is my bestie>??? 

sex_flabbergast: exhausted i stayed up until 5 working on some shitty paper for some shitty class idk did i mention it’s shitty 

piqueton: I don’t think so why don’t u say it again 

sex_flabbergast: ew you’re rlly happy toda y 

sex_flabbergast: did you try a new juice again 

sex_flabbergast: ger please watch your sugar intake your mom told me to watch you 

sex_flabbergast: don’t fuck with the juice gerard 

piqueton: IT”S NOT THE JUICE 

piqueton: I think i’m in love 

piqueton: and also i’m bi 

piqueton: but yeah i’m in love 

sex_flabbergast: uh first of all, it’s been an undisputed fact since you were 7 that you swung both ways b/c you totally showed everyone ur ass at ur birthday party and that was only the beginning of that little escapade 

piqueton: i’ll get back at you later for bringing that up 

sex_flabbergast: and if we start talking about love, i’ll puke 

piqueton: phase 1 of the plan today? 

sex_flabbergast: indeed my friend 

sex_flabbergast: indeed 

 

+ 

 

It was the second day of their suspension and as Villa had been caught attempting to breach the security wall to find porn, they were forced to go back to class, and being suspended stopped being fun for Cesc. Four days suspension was on their record, four days detention (maybe longer if Cristiano didn’t stop with the surly looks and Villa with his smartass comments), and now they even had to show up for class. It was fucking torture. 

 

Cesc stumbled into English with his books under his arm, adopting the same surly stare he’d perfected after watching Cristiano at it for the past half hour in the dean’s office. He hadn’t quite gotten the “even my jaw is angry” bit down, but he had the whole class period to work on it, so he was pretty optimistic. 

 

They were still on the poetry section, and Cesc was getting a little sick of it because they had a massive poetry binder he had to search through each time Mr. Beckham called out a page number, but he had, admittedly, found one he really liked. 

 

“I knew when I said 

I love you 

that I was inventing a new alphabet 

for a city where no one could read 

that I was saying my poems 

in an empty theater 

and pouring my wine 

for those who could not 

taste it.” 

 

He drew a little flying goalkeeper under that one as Mr. Beckham spoke, and when he looked up, Mr. Beckham was looking directly at him with a strange expression. Cesc ignored the look, him, and the lecture entirely. He continued to flip through. 

 

“Had I told the sea 

What I felt for you 

It would have left its shores, 

Its shells, 

Its fish, 

And followed me.” 

 

Cesc drew another little goalkeeper, and this time, he drew a second player with floppy brown hair and puppy dog eyes that followed the goalkeeper. A wave followed the second player, and he walked in the sand. 

 

“Cesc, are you paying attention?” 

 

Cesc looked up to find Mr. Beckham and the entire class staring at him. He lowered his pen. “No, sir,” he said apologetically. He closed his binder. “Sorry.” 

 

Mr. Beckham just stared at him. “Page 106. Please. Cesc. For once. Please.” 

 

Cesc opened the binder, but instead of paying attention, drew another figure on his inner arm and thought about the fucking ocean following him because that’s what poetry did to him and he really hated it. 

 

When he was finally free for lunch, he smudged the goalkeeper on his arm and made it his mission to sit with Iker. He wasn’t going to just sit back and watch his opportunity disappear. Iker had responded well earlier, and he wasn’t about to let that slip away. He didn’t exactly have a chance with Iker, but he had the shadow of a chance and that was far better than anything he’d ever had before. 

 

On one side of the table, Iker and Xabi sat, their uniforms perfect, their shoes shining, their ties perfectly straight. On the other, sat Cristiano and Sergio, and it was like they were worlds away. Cristiano was slumped over arrogance, but _god_ he looked so good. His tie was loosened, the first button on his shirt was undone, his blazer was open, but everything about his attempt to look lazy was well-placed. He didn’t put effort into looking put-together, but he put a hell of a lot of effort into looking good while still looking like he didn’t give a shit. Cesc wondered if he did sometimes, give a shit that is. 

 

Sergio though-- Sergio was a completely different story. His pants weren’t even uniform pants, the buttons on his shirt were off by one, his tie was hanging out of his pocket, his hair was a beautiful disaster, his shoes were scuffed up from playing football in them, and he still looked perfectly at home. 

 

Cesc was a mixture of the two sides and he fit on neither bench. He tried to look put together, but his laziness always caught up to him, and even when it didn’t and he did actually try to look good, he looked in the mirror and-- well, he decided there was really nothing he could do about the face he was given. 

 

He knew he wasn’t like Xabi or Iker, perfectly put together, calm at all times. He wasn’t Sergio because Sergio could roll out of bed in the morning, throw on the paper bag he puked in the night before, and still somehow-- god only knows how-- look incredible. And he most definitely wasn’t even close to Cristiano, partly because he couldn’t understand Cristiano, and partly because he knew everything about Cristiano was so _his_ that even though others had tried, no one could quite pull off whatever it was that he was. 

 

But despite being nothing like the group, he wanted in, and he was determined to at least try. 

 

“Hey, sorry, am I interrupting something?” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, wincing as the words flew out of his mouth, already terrified that he was doing something wrong. 

 

The conversation stopped. Sergio and Cristiano looked at each other, Xabi inclined his head, and Iker-- Iker smiled, and it was like light was flooding the room. “Not at all, Cesc. Or, yeah, but it’s nothing top secret.” 

 

“Yeah,” scoffed Cristiano. “Because apparently I’ve lost the right to keep my sex life private.” He threw Iker a murderous look. 

 

Iker rolled his eyes, pulled Cesc down to sit between him and Xabi, and leaned into him to mutter, “He’s just being pissy about it because he finally actually likes someone.” 

 

“I do not,” Cristiano protested, and then he fell back against the chair, defeated. “I mean, I do, but it’s so fucking weird to say it out loud, and it’s even weirder to actually feel it.” 

 

Iker looked at Cesc expectantly because the others had already offered their opinion and advice-- Xabi was calm and realistic, Iker was excited but depressing, Sergio was happy and overly-positive as he was still glowing from Fernando agreeing to go out with him. 

 

Cesc realized everyone was waiting for him to give his opinion as if, just like that, he could sit with them at lunch and meet them after class or start a conversation and he wouldn’t be ignored. He thought maybe he shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was, seeing as Iker was his tutor and they were all his teammates, but he’d always felt like there was a barrier and he was on the wrong side of it. 

 

Cesc coughed. He tugged his sleeves over his hands, and tried not to be hyperaware of Iker brushing his shoulder. “Uh, so who is this you’re, you know--” 

 

“Fucking,” Sergio chirped helpfully. 

 

“In love with,” Iker provided. 

 

Cristiano glared. “Ricky.” 

 

Cesc blinked. His mouth fell open. “You...” He looked at Iker as if to confirm that Cristiano was indeed serious. He was. “...and then there was one,” he moaned mournfully as he realized. 

 

“One what?” Sergio asked, sipping his orange juice loudly. Some sloshed on his white shirt and he didn’t bother to mop it up. Xabi shot him a disgusted look, one which Sergio happily ignored. 

 

“One virgin,” Iker answered for him, his eyes never leaving Cesc. Cesc blushed, and even his fingertips felt hot. 

 

“Ah,” Cristiano said quietly. 

 

Ever-ignorant of his surroundings, Sergio was still smiling. “Who’s the one left?” 

 

There was a pause. “Me,” Cesc answered meekly. 

 

“Well, David did offer to fix that for you,” Cristiano teased, and Sergio gripped his arm because he was laughing so hard, and it was like nothing had changed between them. It was both beautiful and really, really sad to watch. 

 

Iker glared. “There’s nothing to _fix_ , and David isn’t going to fucking do anything.” 

 

The corners of Cesc’s lips twitched upward. He wasn’t sure why Cris was smiling the way he was, like he knew something, but he was too happy to even wonder for long. 

 

Iker shrugged his blazer around him tighter. “Alright, we should get back to class thanks to fucking David and his quest for porn.” 

 

He swept off to English with his mind a mess. Cesc stared at him as he walked away, pressing his finger to the smudged ink drawing of the goalkeeper on his inner arm. 

 

He didn’t notice Cristiano, Sergio, and Xabi quietly laughing to themselves because, _really,_ when were the two of them finally getting together. 

 

+ 

 

sergiofuckingramos: yo i’m just hopin for a little cooperation fro u both?? 

CR7: what the f are you talking about? 

sergiofuckingramos: aw are you trying to cut back on your swearing again? 

CR7: yes now fucking tell me 

CR7: shit 

CR7: SHIT 

CR7: the no cussing rule is fucked up idk I was just doing it for shits and giggles but it’s darkening my mood terribly 

sergiofuckingramos: CRIS 

sergiofuckingramos: NOT ABOUT YOU FOR FIVE SECONDS 

CR7: wat make it short and sweet 

sergiofuckingramos: i want you and nando to at least get along ok? so he’s really trying and i really need you to not be a dick about it 

CR7: fine take away my fun UGh 

sergiofuckingramos has logged off 9:09 am 

 

+

 

“Hey,” Fernando said as he passed Cristiano’s desk, and it was the weirdest hey he’d ever received, a little bit apprehensive and a little bit defensive, but he was trying so hard for Sergio, so Cristiano waved and said hello back. 

 

Fernando looked grateful on his way to his seat. 

 

Class started, and Leo didn’t have his homework, but Cruyff didn’t care. Cristiano didn’t have his either, and Mr. Cruyff was forced not to get him in trouble, but he did make a comment in passing about how “participation grades may be affected.” But it wasn’t like Cristiano thought he had much of a participation grade to start with. 

 

Cristiano caught Leo’s eye, and they both smiled, begrudgingly but surprisingly easily. And when it came time for a group project, very rare in Mr. Cruyff’s class, he paired Cristiano with Leo and Fernando, the only group of three in the entire class, and Cristiano knew exactly why he was put there. 

 

Fernando cleared his throat, and brushed the blonde hair out of his eyes. Cristiano still thought he looked like an alpaca. “So, I’m coming to your game tonight.” 

 

“I know.” Cristiano stole Leo’s binder, flipped through until he came to a sheet of clean binder paper, and ripped it from the prongs. He threw the binder back, and Leo almost spat in his face. “You’re coming to see Sergio.” 

 

“Yeah.” Fernando brushed the hair out of his eyes again, and Leo was convinced it was a nervous tick he had and he understood completely why talking to Cristiano--especially civilly-- was bringing it about. 

 

“And you’re going to dinner after?” 

 

“Yup.” Fernando blew air nervously out of his mouth. “First date and all.” He twirled his pencil around his fingers, avoiding looking at both Leo and Cristiano, and for the first time, Cristiano actually saw what Sergio was talking about-- or not what he talked about, but he saw the reason for the look in Sergio’s eyes when he talked about Fernando. 

 

“Nervous?” 

 

For a brief moment, Fernando felt like returning to his glory days of a snide comment here, a snide comment there, getting into a fight with Cristiano and Sergio there, etc. But he thought about Sergio’s smiling face and how happy he’d been when Fernando had said yes, and how upset he was when he talked about how Cristiano and Fernando would never get along. Fernando was determined to get along with that shit if his life depended on it. He was determined to give Sergio another reason to smile. 

 

So Fernando nodded and gave his honest answer. “Fucking terrified.” And Cristiano smiled. 

 

+ 

 

Leo was sitting on his bed, shouting at his book. His legs were tucked under his body, his comforter was thrown to the floor, the drapes were pulled over the windows. He was comfortable, it was dark, he was the perfect temperature. He had his book in front of him. He should have been able to study, and yet-- 

 

“I have my history test tomorrow. And I can’t FUCKING FOCUS. GOD. NOTHING IS STAYING IN MY BRAIN.” 

 

David looked up. He was sprawled out on his bed, playing on his computer as per usual. His school books were abandoned in the corner of the room, and he kept telling himself he would get to them later. 

 

He sat up to look at Leo closer. “I can help you,” he said calmly after a minute. 

 

It caught Leo off guard. “What?” 

 

“I can help.” David shut his computer and slid forward, his legs tumbling over the side of the bed. “I’m actually pretty good with history. And you seem...stressed. I can quiz you or something.” 

 

Leo eyed him warily. He was always suspicious when David offered something nice. It just wasn’t very _David_ of him. “Don’t you have your own shit due tomorrow?” 

 

David laughed, and he stretched to kick at his books in the corner. “Homework was invented to be done at 3 am on a Wednesday.” 

 

“You should sleep,” Leo said apologetically because 1.) he’d already decided he wanted ( _wanted_ just as much as needed) David’s help and 2.) once again, David had been sweet and Leo had been a rude and ungrateful little shit about it. 

 

David shook his head and stretched out his hand. He was still wearing his half-unbuttoned uniform shirt, but his pants and tie were discarded, thrown in the corner with his books. He was wearing dark red boxers, and Leo was staring. 

 

David sighed loudly, and Leo continued to stare. It was becoming embarrassingly obvious, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. 

 

“Sleep is for the weak,” David exploded finally, snapping his fingers in Leo’s face, too distracted to wonder what Leo was staring at. “And I have Red Bull. Now let me help you.” 

 

Leo snapped out of his trance, clumsily handed over the book, and his hands suddenly became very interesting as David stretched back out across his bed. “You sure?” Leo asked his hands. 

 

David laughed, and Leo looked up. For once, there wasn’t a trace of sarcasm, cynicism, or mocery. He was just him, and Leo really, really liked him. It was no longer pent up sexual frustration with plain frustration and a lot of attraction. It was a crush, plain and simple, and Leo was a little shaken by the realization. 

 

David smiled gently. “Okay, so tell me about the fall of the Holy Roman Empire.” 

 

His smile was so excited, so ‘Aw fuck yes, I get to help you with history’ that Leo just. He couldn’t speak, and he couldn’t think, and every fact he’d tried to memorize in the past hour and a half flew straight out of his brain. 

 

“David,” Leo said quite seriously, and something in the other boy’s expression changed. His mouth parted and his eyes shone with anticipation. His hair was messy and his shirt was wrinkled, and Leo was staring so hard, trying to memorize every detail, that he was worried David would open his eyes and suddenly see. 

 

Leo didn’t really have anything planned out to say, but David looked really, really good just sitting there because he was all dark hair, dark eyes, badassery, and humor, and Leo liked him when he was annoying and frustrating, but he liked David when he was like this too. 

 

David continued to stare at him, and finally Leo returned to staring at his hands. “I feel like I should be honest with you about something.” He could hardly believe what was coming out of his mouth. 

 

David laughed nervously. 

 

Leo looked up and their eyes met, and Leo could taste the tension in the air. “Uh, I don’t know shit about the Holy Roman Empire.” 

 

David laughed again, but he didn’t hide his disappointment very well. 

 

+ 

 

After hearing about Cristiano’s drama with Ricky-- which he was surprised to find hadn’t yet spread beyond their group and Cesc (although Cesc was beginning to count as one of theirs)-- Xabi wanted nothing more than to see Steven. 

 

Their relationship wasn’t about sex, and nothing had really happened yet because neither of them had any clue how to balance their feelings and the end of the first semester looming (which meant the end of the year was approaching and so was graduation), and they didn’t want to fuck it up with sex. And that didn’t matter to Xabi. What mattered to Xabi was the end of the semester looming bit, that whole staring-into-the-abyss post-grad part. 

 

His first question for Cristiano was what he planned on doing when Ricky graduated and Cristiano hadn’t had an answer, and Xabi realized he didn’t have one for himself and Steven either. And he was starting to panic just a little. 

 

They met at night, near 9 when the football pitch was empty and only the waterpolo kids were still returning from practice. The slow trickle of students from the indoor pool, the sloshing of their feet and the joy in their shouts, was the only reminder that they weren’t in their own world because when Xabi looked at Steven, standing in front of the tree with the leaves cascading behind him, nothing else existed in the world. 

 

“So you said you wanted to talk?” Steven asked like there was nothing odd about it. “Any reason you decided to talk out here? Planning on killing me? Can I suggest a place to hide the body?” 

 

The wind blew, the leaves fell from the tree again, and one landed in Steven’s hair. Xabi brushed it away without thinking, and he wasn’t laughing. Steven caught his hand. 

 

“Xabi. What’s going on?” 

 

Xabi sighed, let Steven catch and hold his hand because the conversation was hard enough without being a heartless bastard about it too. “I’m just worried about after this year. I mean, what are doing? What are we thinking? I don’t want to break up, not now and not ever, but I can’t do long distance. And part of me wonders if maybe you’re better off with someone who, I don’t know. Maybe you’d just be better off.” 

 

Steven’s hand tightened around Xabi’s, and the muscle in his jaw jumped. “First of all, you fucker, no one ever said anything about breaking up, and jesus, you make me the best version of myself and I don’t say that lightly because sweet shit like that gets annoying.” He paused, and Xabi was still adorably concerned. “You’re not changing your plans for me, and I’m not changing my plans for you, and that doesn’t mean we have to break up. And it doesn’t mean I don’t love you.” 

 

There was a pause, and then Xabi turned so fast he got a crick in his neck. “You love me?” 

 

Steven made a strangled noise at the back of his throat like a frustrated laugh. “Getting there, Xabi, and pretty damn close by now.” 

 

Xabi kicked at a clump of grass, but he was smiling. “Me too, you know.” And the smile started to fade. 

 

Steven picked at his fingernails, the wind picked up again, another leaf fell in his hair, but Xabi didn’t reach over to pick it out this time. “I know, Xabi. Sometimes you just know these kinds of things.” 

 

“And sometimes you don’t,” Xabi answered. His throat hurt, and it _wasn’t_ because he had to swallow past a lump. His brow furrowed. “Sometimes you don’t know what’s going to happen.” 

 

“Would you please stop worrying about the future? Please?” Steven grabbed the hand Xabi hadn’t even realized he pulled away. “For all we know, we could end up going to the same school.” 

 

And it was a joke, really, because they both knew the sort of school Xabi would go to was not the sort of school that would accept Steven. 

 

But Xabi just nodded like he hadn’t heard. “Yeah.” He bit his lip. 

 

+

 

Leo had skipped dinner to study, and David was too busy updating his bumblr or whatever he called it. He said that helping Leo counted as doing his own homework and he mentioned something called a “dash.” It was weird and there was always porn when he scrolled. 

 

Despite the fact that he was pulling David away from a screen full of porn and footballers and swimsuit models (because as David said, “Your dick doesn’t need to react to appreciate that peach ass.”), David seemed almost willing to come eat a late dinner with Leo. 

 

It was the first time they’d eaten together and it was in the break room, and their feast was the vending machine. Leo pulled out his wallet, but David shook his head and, instead, reached around the back to pop open the front, and everything was free. 

 

They laid out bags of chips, packets of candy, bags of cookies, and it was the happiest Leo had seen David in a long time. They set out paper towels, “borrowed” a few sodas, and as much as Leo loved pizza nights in the cafeteria, he liked spending this time with David even more, and that was saying something because that pizza was part of his very soul. 

 

“What the fuck do you mean you don’t like jolly ranchers?” David looked scandalized as he popped another in his mouth to suck-- and Leo definitely _did not_ sexualize the sounds he was making. He was eating a candy for fuck’s sake, not licking Leo’s cock. 

 

“I’m offended,” David continued, and he really was getting quite worked up about it. “On a personal level, Leo. I’m offended _on a personal level._ Jolly ranchers are part of who I am, spiritually and emotionally, and I don’t think we can be friends anymore. I don’t need this kind of negativity in my life.” 

 

Leo laughed, and he picked at his bag of chips. The room was silent again when he finished chewing his chips so loudly it felt like the world had turned on its side. “Are we friends?” Leo asked, and he reached for another barbecue chip, crunching loudly to relieve the tension. 

 

The other boy rolled his eyes, made a sound under his breath, and it meant ‘please don’t ask me questions like that’ and also _yes_. 

 

Leo smiled into his soda. David made a frustrated sound and reached for Leo’s bag of chips. “All finished,” Leo announced. “I’ll get you another bag.” He fished for his wallet because he liked doing things the right way. “Barbecue, ranch, or salt and vinegar? Or this weird cheese one which actually looks really good?” 

 

“Allow me.” David pushed him aside, plucked the wallet from his hands, and tossed it back on the table where it flopped open uselessly to reveal all of $3. “This is your reward for working so hard doing all that studying: me buying you dinner.” 

 

“You’re not even really buying it,” Leo remarked. “But I’m touched.” 

 

“Yeah, you’re touched,” David snickered, gesturing crudely to his dick. 

 

Leo smacked his arm as he bent to retrieve the chips. “Rude. You’re the one always talking about my dick. If anyone is _touched_ , it’s you.” 

 

“No,” David argued, sitting back down and draping his legs over the nearest chair that wasn’t Leo’s. “I’m just always talking about dicks in general. Your dick holds no special place in my heart.” 

 

“Yeah, but my dick would occupy a special place in your ass,” Leo muttered. 

 

David whacked him with the bag of chips. “I think you and I both know you would bottom in this relationship.” 

 

Leo licked his lips. “Gladly.” 

 

David swallowed and looked away, and Leo felt like Christmas had come early. 

 

+ 

 

CR7: just wanted to make sure you’re ok 

ricky_kaka: cris I’m sitting across the room from you 

ricky_kaka: Look at me. I’m looking at you. 

CR7: I see you 

CR7: you look cute in that shirt 

ricky_kaka: it’s the uniform shirt, cristiano. it’s required. 

CR7: well you look fine as hell in the required uniform alright take teh damn compliment jfc 

ricky_kaka: the lord’s name in vain cristiano 

ricky_kaka: please do not 

CR7: you do realize you’re the only one I’d put up with this bullshit for right? 

ricky_kaka: I know 

ricky_kaka: I feel special 

CR7: good. now come feel special on my bed 

CR7 has logged off 11:58 pm 


	14. Bad Case of Loving You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fernando and Sergio are officially dating. David likes his dick a lot. And: “You should shut up more often, Iker.”

It was the week before finals, and everyone was stressed, but Sergio and Fernando found time for their first date. It was in a coffee shop a block away from school, and Sergio was determined not to forget a thing-- not the way Fernando gently held his hand the whole way there as they walked, not the way the light glanced off the tiled floors and made Fernando squint from the glare, and not the way Fernando stared across the table at him, sipping his coffee and offering Sergio a smile like a secret. 

 

“I’m glad we managed to get off campus,” Fernando said as they brought their mugs to the table. He sat down and the chair squeaked. 

 

“Yeah, it feels good to not be suspended.” 

 

“It’s almost weirder to _not_ be suspended these days,” Fernando replied, and he felt his chest swell with pride when he managed to get the words out without screwing up. 

 

Sergio laughed, and he was grateful Fernando was talkative because he really liked Fernando and he really hated quiet dates. 

 

“I hate quiet dates,” he said just as Fernando started talking about the menu, and he cringed. “I’m sorry,” he said, and he motioned for Fernando to continue. 

 

“No, really, I was just talking about tea and how it makes your teeth yellower, and I was going to say that apparently coffee stunts your growth, so you really have to pick your poison there, but. Uh. Yeah. Not important.” Fernando blushed, inwardly wincing at his own awkward rambling. “What were you going to say?” 

 

Sergio paused and a laugh built in his throat. “No,” he said, speaking thickly around his smile, well aware that he wasn’t answering the question. “No, can we just make things normal?” 

 

“I don’t think there’s any way to date your friend and make it normal.” Fernando shrugged in a way that meant _but not-normal is okay too_. 

 

Sergio laughed again and this time it reached his eyes and he threw his head back in that way he had. “I like that we’re friends.” 

 

Fernando timidly reached forward to take Sergio’s hand as his answer. 

 

“So, what’s your story?” Sergio asked a little while later, leaning back into his chair with that feeling like his life was playing out like a movie. “I mean, who are your parents? Senators? Do they own the largest bank in the country? Are they, like, the mob?” 

 

Fernando snorted. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

 

“Oh, come on, everyone at our school is the son of someone.” He rolled his eyes, and Fernando liked the way they shone with excitement brighter than usual. “Iker’s dad used to coach Real Madrid, Leo’s parents are, like, the richest lawyers I’ve ever heard of, Javi’s dad won the gold medal for archery, like, two Olympics ago and his mom invented those shoes with the rollerblades on the bottom. Like, are your parents related to the president or something?” 

 

Fernando laughed and stirred his tea. “Who are your parents then?” 

 

Sergio pulled the sleeves of his (honestly hideous) black sweater down over his wrists, huddling into himself as the door opened behind them, spilling the cold air into the tiny shop. The door shut almost at once, but the momentary distraction was enough for Sergio to temporarily forget that Fernando was meant to be answering. 

 

“My dad was that guy from those bullfighting movies, you remember those? They were _the shit_ when we were, like, ten. My mom is the fucking best dancer you’ll ever see in your life. She won all these awards, and she still kicks my dad’s ass in the career department.” Sergio grinned. “Yours?” 

 

Fernando shrugged and looked away. “Oh, you know.” 

 

“No,” Sergio laughed. “No, I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking, dumbass.” 

 

“You shouldn’t call someone a dumbass on your first date with them.” Fernando was good at avoiding questions. Fernando could avoid this question all night. 

 

“Dumbass. You’re a dumbass.” Sergio looked at him expectantly. 

 

Fernando groaned. “Fine, uh, okay, my mom makes jewelry and my dad’s a dentist. We’re not famous or anything like the rest of you. We’re not anything special.” 

 

Sergio groaned and leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, his chin in his palm. “You still talk like we’re on different sides of something.” 

 

“We are,” Fernando said, wincing again. “Not like in a bad way or anything. I just never thought someone like you would like--” 

 

Sergio leaned across the table to kiss Fernando, and their lips fit together perfectly. Fernando was shocked and open-mouthed, Sergio was determined and passionate, and he tasted a little bit like caramel. “Don’t finish that.” 

 

+ 

 

cfabregass: finally you’re not too busy to talk to your sister? 

sex_flabbergast: never too busy to talk to my sister <3 

cfabregass: oh fuck off you said you were studying last wednesday and we both know you don’t do shit at that school 

sex_flabbergast: uh i’m sorry about that spare me the lecture 

cfabregass: look what I just bought !!!!!!! 

cfabregass has sent you a picture 

sex_flabbergast: what is that 

cfabregass: it’s a toe ring i just bought it DO YOU LIKE IT????? 

sex_flabbergast: no, no I don’t. I don’t understand it. 

cfabregass: yeah but to be fair you don’t understand a lot of things 

sex_flabbergast: ha you’re hilarious but seriously waht does it do 

cfabregass: jfc it’s a toe ring it just sits on my toe that’s it 

sex_flabbergast: i don’t understand why you bought it 

cfabregass: YOU DO THIS EVERY TIME I BUY SOMETHING GOD CESC 

sex_flabbergast: i’m sorry :( 

cfabregass: just tell me it looks nice 

sex_flabbergast: it really flatters your toes 

sex_flabbergast: it’s slimming did your toes lose weight? 

sex_flabbergast: it’s really the right color for your toe 

sex_flabbergast: your toes don’t even look pasty 

cfabregass: literally don’t even come home for the holidays because i will kill you 

sex_flabbergast: HA well you know what gerard and i are probably going to be doing something anyway SO. 

cfabregass: ugh fine i miss you 

sex_flabbergast: miss you too. i’m going to chase off all your suitors when i come home for break btw 

cfabregass: your only function is to cockblock me 

sex_flabbergast: i love you too 

cfabregass: talk to me tomorrow okay 

sex_flabbergast: mkay 

cfabregass has logged off 4:57 pm 

 

+

 

The room was dark. David and Leo had both been preparing for their math finals, Leo on his bed on top of the red quilt his mother sent with him, and David doing problems he’d found online. Leo had drifted off after about an hour and a half because Pre-cal was dull when the pressure was actually on. Normally it was simple for him and Leo was easily frustrated with things that ceased to be simple. 

 

He stretched his arms to the ceiling and his shirt rode up, exposing a strip of his skin. He vaguely wondered what David would have done if he had seen, and then all of a sudden the wondering wasn’t vague and it captivated Leo with a passion he had for few things-- and even fewer people. 

 

Leo rubbed his eyes tiredly as he checked the time-- 10, and time for him to get back to studying. Finals were next week, and he didn’t have the same luxury that Fernando did (practically a photographic memory)-- or the same distraction (Sergio). 

 

He wandered into the bathroom, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, his hair falling over his forehead-- and stopped dead. 

 

David was standing in the shower, slumped back against the wall, stroking his cock. His hair was plastered to his forehead, and water was running down his chest in rivulets. The shower was half running, water gently streaming, too quiet for Leo to hear from the room like David had put thought into not getting caught. 

 

His cheeks were flushed, and Leo couldn’t get the exact shade out of his mind, bright red like the paper crane hanging above his bed. He bit his lips, twisted his wrist, and he moaned quietly. Water dripped from his forehead and droplets clung to his eyelashes, and his lips curved into a gentle smile like he was fucking seeing the face of God. 

 

It seemed like an eternity before David noticed him. Leo had to clear his throat, and David’s eyes fluttered open. He made a choked, surprised noise and Leo wanted to tell him that it was alright, it was all okay, but he was frozen and couldn’t speak. 

 

Panicked, confused, and looking at Leo, he lurched forward and came harder than he ever had in his life. 

 

David looked at Leo; Leo looked at David. David slumped even farther against the shower wall, looking both blissful and confused, his lower lip a purple-ish red where he bit it too hard. His hand was covered, shiny and white, and he quickly wiped it on his chest when he saw Leo looking down at it, though that didn’t really help things because the water started to slowly clean it away, and Leo’s eyes burned into the spot on his chest. 

 

Leo lurched forward just like David had when he came, his face heating up, and he felt so frozen he couldn’t speak. 

 

David just stared at Leo, first with a blind wonder, but the longer Leo stood there frozen, the more the hopeful look started to fade. Finally, David was staring at Leo apologetically, like he had never been so sorry for something in his life. 

 

“Leo,” he said, and his voice was rough in a way that did horrible things to Leo’s mind. “Leo, please--” And he didn’t say anything beyond that, and Leo wasn’t sure what he was going to say, but he nodded quickly and ran straight to Fernando’s room-- empty because he was still out with Sergio-- and he was harder than he’d been in a long time. He was standing in front of the mirror, picturing nothing but _DavidDavidDavid_ and how much rougher his voice would have been if he were fucking Leo. 

 

+ 

 

Cesc and Iker were sitting in Iker’s room because Gerard’s girlfriend was over and Cesc had warmed up to her, but he hadn’t quite warmed up to the idea that he was losing his best friend even to that beautiful, stubborn girl with hair like molten gold. 

 

He was jealous, not because Gerard had a girlfriend and he did not, but because Gerard no longer devoted his attention to Cesc alone. It was bad and Cesc knew it was bad, but that didn’t stop him from feeling it. 

 

“So, Iker,” Cesc began, popping the end of the pen out of his mouth without any idea of what the sound did to Iker, “What do you do when your best friend is occupied with his girlfriend?” 

 

Iker looked up from his AP World History study guide, confused because his mind wasn’t even in the right century for this sort of stuff. “Well.” He stared at Cesc’s lips. They looked soft. “I wouldn’t know seeing as my two best friends are gay. We’re like the Holy Trinity of gayness, Cesc, sorry.” 

 

Cesc smiled because everything Iker said was perfect. “So what do you do now that they’re attached and you’re not--unless you are?” 

 

Iker smiled gently. “I’m not.” A long pause. “And, I don’t know, Sergio throws everything he has into relationships, when he has them. So I see a lot less of him, but it makes him happy and that’s just the way he is. Cristiano holds back so much I genuinely feel sorry for whomever he’s dating or fucking or--” Iker wrinkled his nose like he couldn’t find the words. “You know, whatever it is that he does... So I see a lot of him. That much doesn’t change.” 

 

“And what about you? Are you like Sergio or like Cristiano in relationships?” 

 

There was a lost look in Iker’s eyes that Cesc quickly identified as heartbreak. “I used to be like Sergio, I think. I don’t know. I don’t see myself as clearly as others do-- Never have.” He looked away. 

 

Cesc bit his lip, looked down. 

 

“I think now,” Iker continued quietly, “...I don’t know. I’d hold back more though, be more like Cris because sometimes I think he has the right idea about love being something to hurt you.” 

 

“I don’t know,” Cesc said quietly, “I think it can be something to heal you too.” And what he meant was, _please let me make you better, let me heal you, let me take your pain away because I can tell you’re hurting_. 

 

“Yeah,” Iker agreed after a long time. “And as much as I would love to talk at length to you about love, my test is next week.” He held up the paper apologetically, and he did actually have to study, but mostly he just couldn’t handle thinking about David while he was thinking about Cesc and everything hurt. 

 

“Oh, right.” Cesc cleared his throat and looked back at his own notes, feeling the importance of studying fade in his mind as his embarrassment grew. 

 

There was a long stretch of silence and Iker went back to his studying. Cesc cleared his throat, tapped his pencil on his notebook a few times before rising to his feet, grabbing his backpack and saying, “Should I go? I’ll go. You can study better alone, sorry, I’ll go.” 

 

He looked at Iker and Iker looked surprised and, oddly enough, wounded. And as much as Cesc had hurt because of Iker in the past, he never wanted to hurt Iker in return. 

 

“Hey, Cesc, you don’t have to go,” he said and his voice was unaffected though his eyes told a different story. 

 

“No, really, it’s--” 

 

“Cesc,” Iker said, and there was a catch in his voce, and suddenly Cesc knew-- not that Iker had feelings for him because he didn’t quite have the self-esteem to notice something quite so obvious but he did see a great big something between them (unfortunately that great big something wasn’t Iker’s cock as Cesc wanted). It was this feeling so apparent in Iker’s eyes that Cesc was feeling it too, and he dropped his bag to the floor instantly. 

 

“Iker,” he returned, a little mockingly just to keep the mood light, but he felt out of breath. But Iker was having none of it. He said Cesc’s name again, quiet and low like a secret, like something was tearing him apart from the inside, and normally that sort of thing, that whole business with the name, would have turned Cesc off immediately because he wouldn’t have understood what it meant. But he understood with Iker, and he wanted to hear his name from Iker's lips a thousand times before the sun set. 

 

“You okay?” Cesc asked, peering cautiously at the other boy, a faded smile relaxed on his lips. There were dark circles around his eyes from all the time he spent reviewing instead of sleeping and, again, Iker felt the irrational urge to protect Cesc from everything awful in the world. 

 

“Yeah,” he answered finally. His pale, slender fingers played with the tie he’d tossed carelessly on the bed. “I just don’t want you to think that I don’t care about you because I think, sometimes, I give people-- _you_ \-- that impression.” 

 

Cesc smiled, and his eyes lit up and crinkled at the edges. And Iker couldn’t believe that a few days ago he was agonizing over his English teacher instead of paying attention to the beautiful boy constantly by his side. 

 

“There’s something I want to tell you,” he said, and Cesc’s eyes didn’t darken like perhaps they should have. They lit up and he leant forward, and he looked so pleased that Iker was confiding in him at all. 

 

It seemed like the right idea, to tell Cesc, and Iker couldn’t explain it but he couldn’t confess his feelings for Cesc without being honest about his past, and he wasn’t really planning on confessing his feelings in the first place, but sometimes he worried they would just burst out. 

 

“Yeah?” Cesc urged softly like Iker was taking forever, and Iker was sure he was, but his heart was beating so fast he didn’t really have time to consider sharing the news in a timely fashion. 

 

“I--” His resolve faltered, and he found himself just staring at Cesc, at the curve of his lips, the bruise on his collarbone, the way his eyelashes fluttered. “I did something. Something awful. I’ll never forgive myself for it.” 

 

Cesc’s expression didn’t change, like Iker could never do anything bad enough to make Cesc hate him. Iker stared at his lips again. 

 

“A married man, a teacher--” He looked away. “I think he broke something of mine-- not my heart, definitely not my heart. It feels much worse than a broken heart.” 

 

And then Cesc’s mind was racing, and he was much more clever than people ever gave him credit for because his forehead wrinkled and, “Beckham?” 

 

Iker nodded. Cesc just looked back at him, hurt threatening to crumble his features but that same faith-filled look in his eyes didn’t disappear. 

 

“Why are you telling me this?” He hesitated, picked up his pencil and started playing with it, just for something to do because he was nervous and trying to hide it. “Why did you do it? Is it still going on? Isn’t he married? But, yeah, mostly-- why are you telling _me_?” 

 

“Because,” Iker said, and he looked right at Cesc when he said it, “You have this way of looking at me. It’s not something out of reality.” Cesc looked mortified, and Iker rushed to cover up whatever mistake he may have made. “No, no, sorry--” Iker nervously bit his lower lip. “All I meant was-- don’t look at me like I’m a saint, don’t look at me like I’m some angel. Just look at me as I am.” 

 

Iker wanted Cesc to see the truth and he realized that it wasn’t because he wanted to crush Cesc’s innocence. It was because he wanted to test someone who saw perfection instead of goodness, who thought in extremes, who would never brush aside a mistake the way Iker’s other friends did because they made them all the time. 

 

He wanted to tell someone who thought he was something special to see his reaction when the exact opposite was true. 

 

“I do look at you as you are,” Cesc answered finally, and he still looked at Iker like he was something out of a dream. 

 

Cesc picked up his backpack after that and left with a smile in Iker’s direction. Iker watched him the whole way down the hall because _oh god, what’s happening to me_? 

 

+ 

 

Cristiano was going through his flashcards when Iker sat down for breakfast. He vomited up the “I told Cesc about Beckham and he actually took it well oh shit” story like he’d just eaten fucking shellfish and an allergic reaction was starting. When he finished, he stuffed french toast in his mouth and groaned. “Okay, distract me.” 

 

Cristiano chewed his cheerios unhappily. “I just gave Ricky his first blowjob and now my cereal tastes funny.” 

 

Iker almost spat out his mouthful. “Oh my god, I choked.” 

 

“Yeah, trust me, me too.” Cristiano snorted. “No, but seriously, my cereal tastes like his dick.” 

 

Iker paused. He reached for the syrup. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing or will I regret asking this question?” Syrup was Iker’s favorite. It helped him through any conversation, even ones concerning more about Cristiano’s sex life than he ever cared to know. 

 

Cristiano considered it. “Good actually.”  

 

“Because he loves cock,” Sergio added, glancing up from the history notes he was pretending to study. “I’d know.” 

 

Iker threw him a nasty look. “Sergio, _shut up_.” It was his job to keep Sergio on task as Sergio had demanded just hours earlier, but it was quite possibly the hardest job he’d ever undertaken. “Cris, we’re not having this conversation right now.” 

 

“Well, to be fair, you did ask.” 

 

“I did, didn’t I.” Iker mournfully continued to eat. “Anyway, what are you doing over break before we get into second semester aka _hell_?” 

 

“I’m going to our cabin with Xavi’s family,” Sergio moaned, as if the question had been directed towards him. Any excuse not to study was good enough for him. “Our parents are friends and they’re _making_ us. It’s awful. But I did ask Fernando to see if he could come, like even before we started dating, so hopefully he can come and I can ignore Xavi.” 

 

Iker always acted like he’d been slapped upon the mention of Xavi’s name, but he tried to continue as if everything was normal. “And you, Cris?” 

 

“Nothing, really.” He hesitated like he always did the moment before he mentioned something serious. “My mom isn’t in the hospital anymore, but they’re still giving her treatment and meds and stuff, so I’ll probably see what money I can get together to take her out somewhere nice maybe.” 

 

“We’re going to our cabin too,” Iker offered. “You should come with your mom. Save me from my father’s college talk. I can’t take another second of it. You know he called me for the first time in three weeks to ask me how my grades were. I told him fine and he practically hung up on me. Like, _for fuck’s sake_ , don’t make me spend any more time with him.” 

 

Cristiano made a funny expression, and Iker could tell he was thinking, _well at least you have a father to complain about_. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said, and Iker appreciated his skipping over the guilt trip. 

 

And then Ricky appeared from across the hall, pushing his way through the tall wooden doors, his body small and unnoticeable against the wave of students. Finally, he pushed his way through and nervously caught Cristiano’s eye. Cristiano waved him over, and Ricky quickened his pace, smiling. 

 

“He’s going to sit with us?” Iker raised his eyebrows, too surprised to look back down at his plate where syrup was pooling on the wrong side of his plate. Anyway, wherever syrup was, it was good. 

 

“Yeah, if that’s alright.” It was one of the rare times Cristiano actually had the decency to look unsure of himself, and Iker relished it for as long as he could. 

 

He took his time answering, chewing his bacon fully before nodding and saying, “No, it’s awesome. I’m just surprised. You don’t normally bring people over.” 

 

“Fuck you,” Cris said, but he was grinning because he knew Iker meant, _wow, you actually like him_. 

 

Ricky sat down just in time to hear Cristiano, and he looked over concerned, his eyes wide. “Uh oh. Is everything alright?” 

 

“No,” Iker said, pretending to be outraged just because he could. “Cristiano’s an absolute cock. I have to put up with him every day of my life and I’m sick of it.” He threw his bacon at Cristiano. “Hey, look, it’s the color of your skin when you tan during the summer.” 

 

“I hate you so fucking much. At least I _can_ tan. Need I say more, paleplumpass?” Cristiano picked up the bacon and threw it back at Iker who ducked to avoid it. 

 

It smacked Javi Martinez in the head instead as he walked by, searching for his friends from German club. He snapped his head around, eyes wide. “Angels?” He walked away, shaking his head, muttering, “Angels. I knew it. I knew this place was haunted.” 

 

“Great, now look what you’ve done. You’re probably going to give him nightmares for a month,” complained Fabio as he walked over. He stole the syrup from Iker, shaking his head a little at the syrup soup in Iker’s dish. “You do know one of these days you’re just going to turn into a pile of sugar, right?” 

 

“Yeah, and you’re going to turn into a porcupine. Because of your hair.” Iker laughed at himself, slapping at his leg. “That was in reference to your awful hair.” 

 

Sergio looked up from his notes because he’d finally given up on pretending. “Iker’s being a bitch today.” 

 

“Iker is not being a bitch today,” Iker said happily, and he added more syrup to his plate. “Iker is being honest today.” He licked the excess syrup off his fingers, making sure to lick incredibly seductively in Fabio’s direction. 

 

“That porcupine comment was not nice, Iker,” Cristiano whined, banging his fist on the table. “But that bacon one was just _inexcusable_.” 

 

“We’re not friends anymore,” Sergio muttered in a hushed tone. Cristiano pretended to blink back tears. 

 

Ricky laughed uncomfortably into his orange juice because he didn’t exactly feel like part of Cristiano’s world, but it was okay. He was like Fernando that way, where nothing could convince him that there wasn’t a great divide, but slowly and surely he was beginning to understand that he could belong to both sides. 

 

+ 

 

Iker was meant to be at lunch but he wanted to get some extra studying done, so he’d brought a soda up to his room, cracked open a window, and began to review again for History. Instead of thinking about history, however, he was thinking about Cesc and how he’d popped the pen out of his mouth, stared at Iker with that faith in his eyes. Iker laid back on his bed and stared out the window, wondering why he had to fall for David before he fell for Cesc and why he had to hate himself too much to ever act on his feelings for the latter. 

 

There was a knock on the door and Iker groaned. “Cris, I told you, I’m studying. I don’t care if they do have pizza for lunch. I’m swearing off pizza until I can actually study which I can’t do because I can’t get my mind off of--” He rolled over to find the door swinging open, and it wasn’t Cristiano standing there. “--Cesc,” he finished quietly. 

 

“Iker,” Cesc said back in greeting, but he wasn’t his normal cheerful, adorable self. There was a determination in his eyes that Iker had only seen when he was trying to cram knowledge in his brain the night before a test, like he was attempting the impossible, and Iker wondered what impossible Cesc was going to attempt with him today. 

 

“Look, I--” 

 

“No, shut up, Iker. Just shut up.” He moved forward, almost angrily, and grabbed Iker by the front of his shirt, his hands forming little fists with the fabric to steady himself. He paused, only for a moment, and it was in that moment that Iker realized what he was going to do. He opened his mouth to protest-- not because he didn’t want it but because he’d already considered what it would do to Cesc in the long run-- but Cesc’s mouth was already on his. 

 

It wasn’t a sweet kiss like Iker expected. It was filled with passion and regret and something burning like heartache. Cesc’s lips were soft, soft like nothing Iker had ever felt before, and he didn’t want to let go. Cesc’s fists were still gripping Iker’s shirt, and he felt so little that Iker deepened the kiss as if he could take away every bit of pain Cesc was feeling just by their lips touching. 

 

Cesc was the first to pull away, breathing hard and cheeks pink. “You should shut up more often, Iker.” And he let the door slam behind him on the way out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note about the chp titles: normally song titles or inspired by song titles, not necessarily the songs themselves, sorry 
> 
> gerlonso is absent this time around. sorry about that :( I normally glance at the comments to see what pairing I should make my priority and if I run out of space for one of the others, it doesn't make it until the next chapter. :( sorry about that! hope you forgive me


	15. Don't Think I'll Cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last week before holidays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just got a kitten the other day and I named him Iker.After spending about an hour with him, we decided to pick up his brother as well and my sister named him Cesc, so I essentially have fabsillas in my house every single day. 
> 
> I'm tired and cranky from dealing with an unresponsive photoshop. I only checked over the first half of this. If you find any mistakes, please be gentle, but do tell me. As always, your feedback makes my week. <3

Cesc didn’t think things through. He didn’t think about the fact that he would see Iker again soon or that he had training with Iker or that he might accidentally zone out and be caught staring at Iker’s ass. He didn’t think about seeing Iker at all, and he definitely didn’t think about the fact that finals were next week, and Iker was his tutor. 

 

He thought about not showing up to his study sessions, but 1.) he would completely fucking fail and 2.) he really wanted to see what Iker would do. It had been a whole week, and Iker had done nothing, but Cesc thought Iker was the sort of person to act when pressure was on and Cesc was going to show the fuck up. 

 

He strode into the library, book in hand, and found Iker sitting at their usual table, tapping his pen on his leg. The back of his neck was pink, and he looked paler than usual-- if possible. He turned around when the library door opened, and his eyes widened slightly when he saw that it was Cesc, like he hadn’t really expected him to show up at all. 

 

When Cesc reached the table, he threw his book down, and it made a huge bang. Iker flinched and Robin shushed them from two tables over. Steven and Xabi were making out behind the shelves and he didn’t shush _them_ though did he. 

 

“Cesc.” 

 

“Iker.” Cesc pulled out his chair and sat down, staring at Iker, and he’d never felt more like a badass. 

 

Iker looked down at his book. “Alright, so we should get started. I’ll help you with yours and then look at mine some. We can meet back here later tonight if you still need help.” 

 

“Yeah, better not meet in your room like usual,” Cesc muttered. “Wouldn’t want me to kiss you again, now would you?” 

 

Iker turned pink, and he checked behind him to make sure no one had heard. He didn’t want to hurt Cesc. He didn’t want to embarrass Cesc. And there was still a tiny part of him that made him absolutely sick to his stomach to even think about people _knowing_ what he was. He was beginning to understand David a little more, why he kept his secrets the way he did, and it pained Iker to know that he could understood someone he considered so terrible. 

 

“Yeah, better not let anyone hear,” Cesc snapped. “Wouldn’t want to embarrass you.” 

 

“It’s not about that,” Iker lied, gritting his teeth. “You don’t embarrass me.” And that part was true. “I just.” He clenched his jaw shut. “I just think that we should get back to studying.” 

 

“And I don’t think we’re going to be able to study until we actually talk about what happened. I mean, is that really so much to ask? Can we really not talk about it?” 

 

“You’re the one that walked away,” Iker muttered quickly. 

 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Cesc clenched his hands into fists and the tips of his ears turned pink. “What the fuck, Iker. I’m the one who finally acted on how I was feeling. I’ve been in love with you since forever, and you haven’t noticed, and I’ve just been waiting here all this time. Finally I act on it and you fucking kiss me back, and then you want to forget it ever happened?” 

 

Iker looked at him for a long time, his eyes wide, his fingertips splayed across the top of his history book like he was trying to steady himself. “Yes,” he said finally, and he bit the inside of his cheek. 

 

Cesc sat back in his chair, and Iker thought he would have looked like a lost puppy but instead there was a frightening recklessness in his eyes and, when he looked at Iker, defiance. He didn’t say anything; he just looked at Iker and finally-- 

 

“I don’t want to be your hero,” Iker said because, finally, he understood what that look meant the whole time. It meant Cesc looked up to him. It meant Cesc wanted to be him. It meant Cesc wanted to be _on_ him. And it meant that Cesc was in love with him. 

 

Cesc just sat there, simmering with rage, and his fist was clenched so tight his knuckles were turning white. 

 

“I don’t want to be your hero,” Iker said again, more dismissive this time, and he stood up. 

 

Cesc stood up too, hesitated long enough to notice Iker biting his lip, and decisively threw a punch. It hit Iker square in the jaw and, though it didn’t knock him down, he stumbled back from the shock of it. 

 

“You’re not my fucking hero,” Cesc spat, and he moved forward, shoving Iker up against the bookcase. “You’re not my fucking hero,” he yelled again, and people were starting to run over because the bookcase was shaking and Cesc had his hands at Iker’s throat. 

 

And then something quieted in Cesc’s eyes, he shook his head, said, “I’m yours.” 

 

+ 

 

“A week before finals,” Mr. Mourinho began, sitting back in his shiny leather chair, “And you’re attacking people in the library, Mr. Fabregas.” He set his pen down and cocked his head. “Why?” 

 

“Because he fucking deserved it,” Cesc spat, and Iker refused to look at him. They were side by side, sitting in the two chairs in front of Mourinho’s desk, and it was a terrifying place to be. 

 

Xabi, Steven, and David were pulled from the library as witnesses as they were closest when it happened, and they lined the walls. David was relaxed casually, biting his nails and flicking off the bitten pieces. Steven was standing closer to Xabi, looking worried and pessimistic like their chances of getting out alive were-- well, they weren’t. Xabi leaned against the wall, watching Iker with a thoughtful expression like he understood something that couldn’t be seen. 

 

“He deserved it,” Mourinho repeated after a long pause. He chuckled, but it didn’t sound like a very happy chuckle. “Oh, Mr. Fabregas, you’re still operating with the belief that the universe is a fair place. People don’t get what they _deserve_. Good people don’t get nice things. Bad people don’t get punished. And, guess what? Students don’t get let off the hook for attacking another student-- in the library, might I add-- because the victim _deserved_ it.” 

 

Xabi coughed from the wall. “Mr. Mourinho, it wasn’t exactly like that. I mean, Cesc didn’t just attack him--” 

 

Mourinho silenced him with a stare. Cesc wasn’t sure why Xabi of all people, one of Iker’s closest friends, was defending him, but he appreciated it. He was still too pissed off to arrange his features in a grateful manner so he didn’t bother looking over. Xabi shrunk back against the wall. 

 

“Do you know what you two _deserve_? A week’s worth of detention. Cesc, for obvious reasons. Iker, because I said so.” He sighed and folded his hands on his desk. “However, to illustrate my point about the universe being a rather unfair place, I’m not going to give you what you deserve.” 

 

Cesc looked up hopefully. 

 

“I’m going to give you worse.” 

 

And it seemed like the air went out of the room. Cesc didn’t bother looking at Iker and he didn’t bother wondering what his chances were of finally getting with him. That ship had sailed, or maybe it had never existed or something. Whatever, the metaphor was shit and so was his love life. 

 

“Three weeks. Probation. Garbage duty at lunch. You can start when you get back from break.” Mourinho almost smiled, and he turned to stacking his papers at his desk like he had finished with them and it was up to them to get out before he made their lives worse. He shook his head with the same threatening chuckle. “Why is it always you boys?” 

 

“No Cristiano or Sergio this time,” David pointed out, and he flicked a piece of his bitten off nail in the direction of Mourinho’s desk. 

 

“No,” Mourinho agreed thoughtfully, eyeing the flying nail. “Though I’m sure they’ll do something to get themselves sent here. Can’t finish the semester without them royally fucking up, now can we?” 

 

He nodded cheerfully to the door, and they filed out silently. 

 

 

+ 

 

Xabi really didn’t appreciate his time being wasted, and he really didn’t appreciate Mr. Mourinho. He hated his weird office with the only fully-functioning air conditioning in the school, and he hated his shiny leather chair, and he hated the way Mourinho relished torturing students. But most of all, he hated the way he felt in there, like every step he took was an opportunity for Mourinho to destroy his dreams of going to an Ivy. 

 

He sat with his head in his hands in the hallway, and Steven was beside him, but he hardly even felt that anymore. He was flipping out about colleges and finals and getting enough community service done, and getting called to the office to be a witness to something Cesc and Iker had done was just more stress he didn’t need. 

 

He groaned and lifted his head up to see Steven staring at his hands. “What’s wrong?” 

 

“Nothing,” the other boy replied vaguely. And then, “You. Us. I don’t know, probably me. Everything is wrong because you were right. About everything trying to tear us apart, and about going away to college.” 

 

Xabi felt like someone had taken his brain and put it through the blender. “You...I...You think I... I was right.” 

 

“Yeah.” Steven scuffed his shoe against the ground, and when he looked up at Xabi, Xabi felt like he couldn’t breathe because losing Steven was like that one time he failed his math test freshman year and they called his parents and he’d cried-- only a thousand times worse because Steven _mattered_ in a way grades didn’t matter. 

 

“But,” he continued, and Xabi swallowed past a lump in his throat, “I think we should just say fuck it and stay together until the end of the year. When the end of the year comes, we break up and never contact each other again.” His eyes were bright but firm. “Okay? I don’t want to be your friend ten years from now,  Xabi. I don’t want to be the best man at your wedding.” He stumbled over the last word, and his voice broke. “I can’t watch us grow apart. A clean break, okay?” 

 

Xabi felt like he couldn’t think or breathe or speak because the whole time he’d pictured himself at college, he’d thought about all the awful things happening to him. He’d pictured every possible horrible scenario and he’d prepared himself for every single one of them. Except-- the thing was, Steven was always his answer. Steven was always his anchor and his shield, and the friend that kept him sane, and Xabi realized he never prepared himself for the worst possibility, something so horrible he hadn’t even truly considered it up until then: that he could-- and would-- lose Steven permanently. 

 

“Okay,” he said even though it wasn’t even a little bit okay. “Okay.” 

 

Steven blinked something back in his eyes, and Xabi knew they weren’t tears, but-- no, they weren’t tears. They weren’t a crying couple. They were hardly an emotional couple. They were a doomed couple. 

 

“But until then,” Steven said, and he took Xabi’s hand. 

 

“Yeah, until then,” Xabi repeated, and he felt like all his hard work had been for nothing because, yes, he was going to accomplish all his dreams and that was great. That was wonderful. He was just starting to feel alone all over again. 

 

+ 

 

Fernando and Sergio were disgusting. They were slobbering all over each other, shoving their tongues down each other’s throats, and-- worst of all-- holding hands. Cristiano almost puked. 

 

He could take the slobbering, he could take the visible exchange of saliva going on right in front of his eyes, but he could not take the intimate gesture of holding hands. Thank god they were disgusting enough to make him hate them. God forbid Cristiano admitted the hand holding bit was cute. 

 

“I can’t wait to go to your cabin,” Fernando said cheerfully, and he turned away from Sergio to eat his dinner. “I mean, like, I’m legitimately so excited because we don’t really have a cabin or anything. I don’t know, we have this house in London and we used to have one in Liverpool, but we sold the one in Liverpool, and I like the one in London much better. It’s nice and big and we have this awesome maid, and she always bakes me cookies when--” 

 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Cristiano moaned, and Sergio shot him a venomous glare. 

 

“Isn’t he cute when he rambles?” Sergio asked, and he kicked Cristiano under the table. 

 

“I swear to fuck, Sergio Ramos, if you so much as lay a hand on my legs before this match, I will personally toss Freckles out into the rain in the middle of the night to freeze his ass off, and I won’t be tossing him out the door. I will be tossing him out the window. So basically don’t fucking touch my legs or I’ll destroy everything you love.” Cristiano blew out a loud sigh, and Sergio had hardly kicked him hard enough to feel, but he just needed an outlet for his frustration. 

 

Sergio rolled his eyes and returned to Fernando. Steven and Xabi were passionately kissing at their end of the table, and they looked different than usual, sadder and more broken apart, and they kissed with more purpose. But, whatever, it wasn’t Cristiano’s fucking problem. He hated looking at people kissing unless he got to somehow be happy about it with his friends. When Xabi first got with Steven, he and Iker spent every lunch dissecting their movement and body language. When the trio was reunited, Sergio joined in, and they were all happy for Xabi together. 

 

Nothing was broken apart. No one was alone. Sergio wasn’t _different_ because it was Sergio back then not _SergioandFernando_. 

 

He found himself missing Iker and missing Ricky and missing how Sergio used to be before the blonde alpaca invaded. He was happy for Sergio, he really was, because Sergio deserved all the happiness in the world, but he wanted to have a food fight again and he wanted to watch Sergio do reckless shit and he wanted to walk back to their rooms after training without hearing about Fernando fucking Torres and the exact degree of the curvature of his ass. 

 

Ricky was sitting with Leo across the hall and, as if he had felt Cristiano’s eyes on him, he turned away from the conversation he was in and looked at Cristiano, smiled when he saw him staring back. He waved his hand tentatively, and Cristiano waved back with his whole arm. 

 

_Lookin hot_ , he mouthed, and Ricky blushed, and Cristiano knew he would never get over his blush or his smile or his lips at night or the way Ricky folded against him and everything was warm and safe and perfect. 

 

Suddenly something occurred to him and it wasn’t even a big fucking deal because it was Ricky and Cristiano had done it before, but he just didn’t ask people very often. He scribbled something down on a napkin in the black sharpie he’d “accidentally” stolen from Cesc earlier that week. 

 

“Ricky,” he shouted because Ricky had turned back to listen to what Leo’s friend from band, some Alexis or whatever, was saying. Ricky turned around and he smiled again. 

 

Cristiano held up the napkin, and Ricky smiled wider than Cristiano had ever seen him. He just stared at Cristiano for a second, his eyes wide and bright for how happy he was. He put his hand to his mouth for a moment like he couldn’t believe it, and then he nodded. He nodded until Cristiano was laughing and smiling and nodding back, and then he turned back around, but his shoulders were still shaking with laughter. 

 

Cristiano smiled to himself, and he went back to reading _The Scarlet Letter_ or some shit. He should have done his reading earlier, but he hadn’t felt like it and he was a little busy getting laid, sorry. It was something about a harlot and a priest and bitches being bitchy about a red A. He could definitely write an essay on that. He threw his book aside just as Iker sat down. 

 

“Hey,” he said, bumping Iker’s elbow without looking up. Iker didn’t reply, and Cristiano slowly lifted his head, fearing that Iker had started talking to David again or something because Iker was really, really torn up over David. 

 

“Hey,” Iker said finally when Cristiano was looking at him. 

 

“Holy fucking shit.” Cristiano pressed his finger to the bruise on Iker’s jaw. “What the hell. Iker. What the actual _hell._ ” 

 

Iker’s hair was a mess, his tie was crooked, the first two buttons on his shirt were unbuttoned, the shirt itself was messy and untucked and ripped near the top, he had a bruise on his jaw, and his eyes looked tired as hell. “Cesc happened,” he said flatly. 

 

“You don’t look like you were properly fucked,” Cristiano said, squinting suspiciously, completely misunderstanding (or at least pretending to misunderstand) what Iker was saying.  “Are you sure that’s what happened?” 

 

“I was properly fucked. _Over._ ” Iker made a face at Sergio and Fernando making out again and stole Sergio’s plate of fries. “I was fucked over. All because of that stupid shit.” 

 

Cristiano rubbed at his face. “Okay, seriously, what happened. Break it down for me because you’re being all cryptic and while cryptic does go perfectly with your tall-dark-handsome thing, it’s really not working for me after reading two chapters of this shitty scarlet fever book.” 

 

Iker ate a few fries sadly. “Okay, so basically Cesc kissed me the other day, as you already know, and I didn’t think he would show up for tutoring but he did and he said he’s had the biggest crush on me for like, forever. And I don’t know, I just freaked because he’s mine to protect, not mine to hurt, and if he was ever _mine_ , I would hurt him. Does that make sense?” 

 

“Yeah, believe it or not. Yeah it really does.” Cristiano laughed, but he seemed stiff. 

 

“So. Basically I was a fuckmuffin about it all and he punched me, pushed me up against the bookcase--” 

 

Cristiano waggled his eyebrows. “Kinky.” 

 

Iker threw him a dirty look. 

 

“What? The shoving against a bookcase part, not the punching part, god, you’re no fun.” 

 

“--And,” Iker continued, glaring at Cristiano, “We got called into Mourinho’s office. Three weeks. Probation. Garbage duty at lunch. We start after break.” 

 

“Shit. Man. That sucks.” 

 

“I thought Mourinho was totally on our side about things and then things got fucked. I don’t know, man, I don’t think we can trust that he’s going to help us anymore. We have to be really careful next semester, and I really have to get out of this garbage duty.” 

 

“Oh, come on, it’s not so bad.” 

 

“No, I don’t fucking care how hard it is. I have to do it _with Cesc_. And I don’t want to see him.” Iker looked around like Cesc was going to pop up behind him. His voice quieted, “Or, actually, I just don’t want to see how much I hurt him.” 

 

Cristiano clapped his hand on Iker’s shoulder and he let it rest there, and Iker just rubbed at his eyes a little because he was tired not because he was sad. 

 

He reached to pick up a napkin to wipe away the moisture from his _tired_ eyes, but there was already something on it. Writing in black sharpie. “I only want your dick,” he read. “Be my boyfriend?” 

 

He looked up at Sergio and Fernando first, but they were still engaged in oral mortal combat. It wasn’t either of them, so-- 

 

He gasped and flung the napkin in Cristiano’s face. “OH MY GOD, _CRIS_. OH MY GOD.” 

 

+ 

 

Leo was back to avoiding David, but at some point, it was just ridiculous and he couldn’t hide from it any longer. He threw back the covers and flicked on the lamp next to his bed. David moved in his sleep restlessly, a few words tumbling past his lips before his eyes opened and he sat up in bed, yawning and messing with his hair. 

 

“What the fuck, Leo,” he said uneasily, and his voice was rough with sleep. “It’s fucking 3 am.” 

 

“Yeah, I know, but I saw your dick, so.” 

 

David sat up straighter and his jaw tensed up. He scratched at his neck. “Yeah, you did more than just see my dick. You, uh, you know.” Leo didn’t say anything. “You saw me masturbate.” 

 

“Yeah, I know,” Leo snapped. “I know what I saw, David. I’m a sophomore, not a 12 year old virgin. And I’m not likely to ever get that image out of my brain, thanks.” 

 

David shrugged. “Yeah.” He paused and Leo saw a chink in his armor. “Was it, uh, was it a bad kind of never getting out of your brain? Or was it like, a good image?” 

 

“Pretty sure you can answer that for yourself,” Leo said coldly, and he folded his arms across his chest. 

 

There was a long pause and then, “Good then. Because me saying your name was no coincidence either.” 

 

Leo whipped around because _fuck_ , this was what he’d dreamed of, but his brain wasn’t reacting to it well and his limbs felt sluggish and David was still a spitfuck, so. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

 

“It’s supposed to mean I said your name while I had my dick in my hand, Leo,” David snarled. “What the fuck do you think I mean?” 

 

“Well, I don’t know, David,” Leo burst out, “Because you’re the most inconsistent person I’ve ever had to deal with. Sometimes you act like you hate me, sometimes you get me coffee, sometimes you joke around with me and I almost wonder if we’re friends. And then sometimes I fucking catch you masturbating and it was weird and we didn’t talk about it at all, and like, what the hell, you know? Are we friends or are we roommates or...” 

 

“... or what?” There was a curious look in David’s eyes. 

 

“Or, do you-- hate me?” He bit his lip, asked it the second time much more slowly. “Do you hate me?” 

 

“Not even close to hating you.” And David folded his hands in his lap carefully like every movement was deliberate, those words even more so. 

 

Leo threw his hands up helplessly because he didn’t believe a goddamn thing. If even for a moment there he thought David returned his feelings, he was mistaken. It was his overactive imagination and nothing else. “Then what, David? Do you normally say a friend’s name while you’re cumming? Is that, like, just a normal Tuesday for you?” 

 

“No, fuck. God Leo. You’re not just a normal friend to me, alright?” 

 

He threw his hands up again and David understood the unspoken question. 

 

“It doesn’t mean anything, alright? Just go the fuck to sleep.” He tugged on the power cord and Leo’s lamp shut off, leaving them in complete darkness, but darkness didn’t mask the sound of David burying his face in his pillow and letting out a loud, shaky sigh. 

 

+ 

 

Iker was standing in front of Mr. Beckham’s desk, waiting for the rest of the students to clear out of the room. David had asked him to stay behind, and Iker was nervous and half-insane from the previous day’s events already and he really didn’t feel like seeing David, but, like, what the hell his life was already shot to hell. 

 

The door closed behind Xabi and Carles, and Mr. Beckham looked up from his desk. He took off his glasses and pulled his gradebook towards him. “Iker, I just wanted to let you know that your grade is slipping just below an A going into the final--” 

 

“What?” Iker yelped, and the sudden movement made his jaw ache. “What do you mean? That’s impossible. I can’t be below an A.” 

 

“You didn’t score well on the last test, Iker,” David said, not meeting Iker’s eyes. “That test was worth a lot, and to be honest, you had one of the worst grades in the class.” 

 

“I was really stressed that week,” Iker snapped. “I’ve been a little stressed this whole year, but you wouldn’t fucking know that because you don’t give a shit about anyone besides yourself.” 

 

The other man was silent, and then he leaned forward to put his glasses away in the drawer. He sat back in his chair and watched Iker with an unguarded expression. “Iker, this isn’t about us. This is honestly just about your grade. You know I talk to the students whose grades could really go either way. I’m not trying to rub anything in your face. I’m not trying to hold my power over you head. I’m just treating you like another student.” 

 

“I’m not just another student,” he reminded David with a sharp laugh. 

 

“You are now.” David’s eyes flicked to the picture frame on his desk (Victoria smiling, his son tugging on his hand, the three of them at the beach). “So I suggest you study up.” 

 

“Yeah, fuck you,” Iker muttered under his breath. He started for the door when David called him back. 

 

“Your jaw,” he said, and Iker turned back, his eyebrows raised. “Your jaw,” David repeated. “What happened?” 

 

Iker rubbed the bruise self-consciously because he hadn’t thought it was that noticeable but it was all anyone was talking about when they encountered him. He thought about telling David it was none of his fucking business what happened because it wasn’t, not anymore, but the image of Cesc whispering “I’m yours” sent a jolt through his system. 

 

“Cesc,” he said finally. “Cesc got, uh, mad, I guess.” 

 

“Cesc?” David rubbed the facial hair on his chin. Iker remembered when it used to scratch up his cheek. “Fabregas, yeah? The sophomore, footballer, short-ish with dark hair? The one who doodles those goalkeepers all over his arms?” 

 

“Goalkeepers?” Iker took a step back. “No, his drawings...they’re... They’re not-- they’re just players. They’re not-- they’re not anything special.” 

 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Iker,” David said softly, and it was almost like old times. “I know my students. He draws instead of annotating, writes the key for me in the back of the book like he’s a fucking cartographer. A little picture of himself if he relates to it, a little football if he wants to come back to it, and a little goalkeeper for ones that make him sad.” He just looked at Iker. “Wonder why that is.” 

 

But Iker was too flustered to notice David’s revelation because he was having one of his own. “The book-- he turned it in, right? Before finals, they turn in the annotations?” 

 

“Yeah, sure, it’s right there.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of a pile of books on the floor marked _Sophomore English_ with a post-it. “In the F section, both for his last name and his grade.” 

 

“Ha,” Iker said hurriedly. “Give it to me, please, give me the book.” 

 

+ 

 

_Finals Week:_

 

It wasn’t until the last final on Wednesday that a universal sigh of relief was expelled from the student body. Lockers were cleared out, rooms were left half empty, vending machines were ransacked, and last minute work was actually handed in. 

 

Iker, Sergio, Fernando, and Cristiano were standing in the front of the school, each with a full backpack and a brown box full of stuff they wanted to take home for the holidays. Sergio kept bumping Fernando’s teasingly, and he was constantly reminding him of the trip they were set to go on together. 

 

After ten full minutes of “You’re so cute” “No, _you’re_ so cute,” Iker turned to Cristiano and made a gesture with his hands like he was going to throttle someone. “Have you talked to your mom?” he asked loudly, trying to drown out the vomit-inducing noise. 

 

“Yeah, is it cool if the whole family comes like last time?” 

 

“Course,” Iker grinned, and it felt like the first time he had truly smiled since the events of the previous week. 

 

He would be starting new. It was the end of the semester, the end of all the drama, the end of his relationship with David, and the end of what might have happened with Cesc. His family and Cristiano’s were going to spend three full weeks together and he was swearing off dick until graduation. 

 

He smiled and ignored the painful, nagging reminder that Cesc’s book was at the bottom of his backpack and Cesc himself was walking past with a glare like it could burn through flesh. 

  



	16. Merry Fucking Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> holidays, family, climbing out of windows, and first times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cap'n crunch refers to cereal 
> 
> VERY IMPORTANT: should I split the story in half and make the second semester the sequel?? Or should I just make it all one story with like 30 parts? What would you guys prefer?   
> (sorry if this is confusing!) 
> 
> btw i'm always taking one shot requests   
> if you ever want anything, please just let me know in the comments <3 I always answer those either right before I post the newest chapter or right after :) 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading <3

It was the week before Christmas and Cristiano, Iker, and Cristiano’s older sister were browsing the small (mostly) antique stores that surrounded the small village in the mountains where the Casillas family resided during the holidays. 

 

Catia was shorter than Cristiano with brown hair and a plain face, but pretty in a way good friends were always pretty. She had already completed her Christmas shopping in the first ten minutes of their trip, but it was their third hour, she wasn’t finished looking “just for fun,” and Iker and Cristiano couldn’t decide on anything. 

 

Catia was storming ahead of them, humming under her breath, and pointing out the stores she knew to be quality. “Oh my god, Cris, this place is so cute. We should go in here. You can get mom something. Remember, we came last year and you got mom that dress I picked out?” 

 

“That was here?” Cristiano stepped back to survey the place. He glanced cluelessly back at Iker. “Yeah, yeah, let’s go in. I still have to get something for Ricky anyway.” 

 

Catia turned around at once, her hair flipping and narrowly missing Iker’s face. She raised her hand and Cristiano winced a little, anticipating one of her slaps to the back of the head. “Woah, woah, _woah_. Who is this Ricky you’re buying shit for?” 

 

Cristiano didn’t answer and Iker turned away when Catia looked to him. 

 

“Cris, I’m your _sister._ ” She was wearing tight black pants, black boots, and a blue sweater. She could go from cute and sophisticated to bloodthirsty and menacing in seconds. 

 

“Fine, jesus, he’s my boyfriend, okay?” Cristiano stepped forward to storm past her to enter the store. He was good at avoiding stuff like this. Just. Not when he was meant to be avoiding his sister. 

 

She stood in his way for a second, her eyes wide, her mouth dropped half-open, and then she stepped aside, gaping at him. He murmured a quick, sarcastic “ _thank you_ ” and swept into the store, patting at his pocket for his wallet. 

 

Iker turned back to Catia, eyebrows raised. “I’m guessing he didn’t tell you?” 

 

“No, Cris doesn’t really call us with that kind of information.” She looked down at her feet, shy and uncomfortable for the first time since Iker had first met her. “It’s mostly half an hour of him badgering us with questions about how we are.” 

 

“That dumb thoughtful piece of shit,” Iker joked, and he scuffed at the ground with his toe because looking at Catia made him sad and worried and want to pull her into his arms or rush after Cris and do the same to him. 

 

Catia snickered. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess. But seriously, who’s Ricky? Like, what’s he like? Is he going to hurt my little brother because, if he does, I swear to God, Iker, I’ll kill him. I _will_ kill him.” She was wearing her crazy eyes. 

 

“I have no doubt that you will,” Iker answered, smiling gently because he was more than mildly impressed (and also more than mildly amused at the similarities between sister and brother). “But you won’t have to. Just trust me on that. If anyone is going to get hurt...” Iker shrugged. 

 

“Right. Cris will do the hurting.” She tried to smile. “Got it. Course he will.” 

 

She tried to brush past Iker, but he could tell she was upset. He held out his arm to gently hold her back. “Hey, _hey_. Come on, it’s me. You can tell me anything. Why are you upset?” 

 

“No, it’s just. He’s his father’s son, that’s all.” She bit her lip. “He hurts people.” And she disappeared inside, leaving Iker out in the cold with an outstretched arm and a little old lady with a dog that smelled like burnt caramel. 

 

Iker didn’t feel like walking inside after that because sometimes Cristiano made him really sad and he was already pretty sad about his shitty life and he didn’t want to look at Cristiano and realize that his life could be a lot shittier and he was actually pretty lucky to just be having boy problems. 

 

He sat on the bench next to the little old lady with her odd smelling dog, and he pulled Cesc’s annotated poetry book out. It was just starting to drizzle, and Iker was staring down at the pages, forcing himself to read the poems over and over again instead of reaching into his pocket for his phone to call that fucking awful boy who was absolutely taking over his life. 

 

+ 

 

cuntrao: where u @??? u w/ that fine piece of ass cap’n? 

cuntrao: cap’n crunch more like cap’n crush my sexuality between the palms of ur sexy hands and lemme ride u into the sunset 

CR7: oh my god 

CR7: literally never been prouder of anyone in my life 

cuntrao: thnx i learned from the best xoxo 

cuntrao: and i’m rlly bored 

cuntrao: u know what boredom does to me 

CR7: well now i do 

cuntrao: no but like iker is like the older brother i want to fuck 

CR7: please never say anything like that ever again 

cuntrao: yoooo u know i’m right 

cuntrao: he’s all brotherly and rawr protective but then it’s like ah i wanna feel u up my bumhole u know??? 

CR7: oH My HOGD 

cuntrao: <3 

cuntrao: so how’s the gift shoppig going? 

CR7: i still have no idea what to get for ricky 

cuntrao: just search ur heart and youll surely find the answer  (◡‿◡✿) 

CR7: yeah i would search my heart if I had one to search 

cuntrao: lmao ur right tho 

cuntrao: u r a heartless little tit 

cuntrao: time for me to eat again 

cuntrao: i’m eating so much i look pregnant 

cuntrao: i love being at school during the holidays 

cuntrao: goodbye ily i will txt u with gift ideas 

CR7: how thoughtful of you 

CR7 has logged off 10:57 am 

 

cuntrao has sent you offline messages at 10:58 am 

cuntrao: a dildo 

cuntrao: nudes 

cuntrao: lube 

cuntrao: photoshop his face onto the face of a pornstar and then glue that masterpiece onto a pack of condoms and then he has his own brand of condoms 

cuntrao: make him a t-shirt with a pic of ur dick 

cuntrao: a rosary blessed with the bodily fluids flowing outta ur cock (and i don’t mean piss, if u catch my drift) 

cuntrao: okay that last one was bad brb going to church 

cuntrao: i’m actually worried i’m going to hell for that 

cuntrao: ugh time to raid the vending machine 

cuntrao: text me if you remember how to break into it without hurting my hand again???? 

 

+ 

 

Cesc was standing in front of the sink, cleaning the cut on his split lip. His nose had just stopped dripping blood, and the underside of his jaw was scraped and bloody. His shoulder felt dislocated, but it was really just badly bruised, and the cut over his left eye from three days before had just been reopened. He leaned over the sink, poured a bit of soap into his hands, and scrubbed at his face messily, wincing the whole time, until he heard a door opening and a cough behind him. 

 

It was the third time in a week that Cesc had returned home like that, ensuring that Gerard’s stay with the Fabregas family was both miserable and terrifying as he had to sit through the lectures from Cesc’s parents and the “really, Cesc, why are you lashing out like this? Is it because we send you away?” and the subsequent fear that they would pull him out of Hastings if he carried on the same way. 

 

“Cesc,” he said softly from the doorway. “Cesc, seriously, what the fuck. This is the third time this week. Enough is enough.” 

 

“Enough of what?” Cesc tossed the towel over his shoulder and surveyed himself in the mirror one more time. He hardly looked like himself anymore. 

 

“Enough of picking fights and letting people hurt you because you can’t hurt _him_.” 

 

Cesc winced and backed into the sink so hard Gerard stuck out his hand to steady him. “I have hurt him,” Cesc snapped finally, his eyes wide and dark and hurt. “I’ve hurt him and I don’t want to hurt him anymore.” He turned to spit in the sink. “At least not physically.” 

 

“What,” Gerard scoffed, “You think you’re just going to show up to school one day with your face caving in and he’s going to be sorry?” Gerard was hurt and confused and seeing Cesc all torn up made him want to set something on fire. “It doesn’t work like that, Cesc,” he said after a short pause. Cesc was still defensively pressed back against the sink. “It just doesn’t work like that.” And his voice was much softer. “It’s not romantic to hurt yourself for the person you love.” 

 

“I’m not trying to be romantic,” Cesc said hotly. “I’m _trying_ to be self-destructive.” 

 

“Well, congratu- _fucking_ -lations, Cesc. You’re doing a brilliant job of it.” He picked up the empty bottle of shampoo from the trash can and threw it harshly at Cesc. “There, is that what you want?” 

 

It bounced off Cesc’s elbow and he just stared where it hit. Cesc’s mouth was hanging open like he couldn’t believe what was happening and he was too exhausted to do anything about it. Gerard wondered if he just stood there while those other boys beat him up or if he had stood up and struggled against the very thing he came for in the first place. 

 

Gerard picked it up again and again and threw it like a madman until he realized the ridiculousness of the situation-- that he was throwing a bottle of _shampoo_ at his best friend-- and he started laughing until his sides ached, and Cesc was watching him with a wary look like he might try to eat him next. He just kept laughing until nothing was funny anymore, and then he stared at Cesc like they didn’t even know each other anymore, and he was starting to wonder if that feeling-- that horrible feeling that they had become strangers-- was right. 

 

“That hurt,” Cesc said mildly, finally, and he turned back to the mirror to wash out the shallow cut near his eye. “That hurt a lot.” And then his eyes were wet and there was a mysterious shiny track running down his cheek, and Gerard looked away. “You don’t understand why I do the things I do. Please don’t try to understand. It will just hurt you.” 

 

“Well. You like hurting the people you love, Cesc,” Gerard answered tightly. “So, why don’t you try me?” 

 

“I don’t like hurting the people I love.” His voice sounded choked. “I like hurting myself. And sometimes people I love get caught in the crossfire.” 

 

Gerard slammed the door as he left, and Cesc lowered himself to the floor because he was dealing with something he knew nothing about (and his shoulder was really hurting), and he didn’t really want to be alone but having people around him just intensified the pain. 

 

He wasn’t trying to get Iker to love him. At least he didn’t think he was. He couldn’t explain it to Gerard because Gerard would never have understood what it was like to love someone who didn’t return the feeling. Cesc decided he must be alone in the feeling of loneliness and self-hatred and love. 

 

+ 

 

cfabregass: what’s all the yelling about??? 

piqueton: your brother has absolutely gone fucking mental 

piqueton: and i would say i’m going to kill him, but he might get the job done for me 

cfabregass: WHAT THE HELL GER 

cfabregass: why is everyone so fucking serious around here 

cfabregass: he broke up with his bf or somethin, so fucking what/???? 

piqueton: it’s cesc 

piqueton: and he’s been in love with iker since forever 

cfabregass: lmao i always thought you two were going to get together 

cfabregass: w/e he’ll get over this iker character soon enough 

cfabregass: just tell him to stop makin so much fuckin noise i’m trying to sleep here 

 

+ 

 

The halls were abandoned; the rooms were empty. First semester books were left lying around, and the second semester ones were tossed carelessly into closets all around the world. The campus was covered with a light dusting of snow, wreaths on every classroom door, and news of Mourinho stepping down from his position for the second semester was already slowly circulating. 

 

Leo didn’t know what to do with himself. At first, he was thrilled that his parents didn’t have time for him over the holidays and decided he was better off at school. Fine, essentially having the campus to himself wasn’t exactly a punishment. He could have the dorm room to himself, he could wander down to the vending machines half-naked, etc., the possibilities were endless. 

 

To Leo, it sounded like paradise. And for the first five minutes, it was paradise. And then David walked in with a box filled with books, sat down on his bed, and asked, “Why aren’t you gone yet?” Bluntly, like he wanted Leo gone and he wasn’t afraid to admit it. 

 

“My parents don’t really have time for me this Christmas.” _Or any Christmas_ , Leo added silently. 

 

“Ah. I see.” David moved to his desk and swiveled around to face Leo like he didn’t actually mind having a conversation, like maybe that thing about Leo’s parents was something he could relate to. “Parents,” David said understandingly, making a face. “Am I right?” 

 

“Yeah,” Leo answered with a laugh. “They shouldn’t have fucking had me if they didn’t want to put up with me. Thank God for boarding school, right?” 

 

“Yeah, thank God for this place.” David unceremoniously tore off his shoes and threw them aside. They hit the wall and left marks, landed in a heap near the door, and he made no move to clean the wall or move his shoes. “I’m glad there’s a place where shitty parents can put their kids so they can tell themselves they’re not actually that shitty and their kids are fucked up for another reason.” 

 

“Come on,” Leo said quietly because David’s hands were balling into fists and he looked pissed off and dangerous, no longer cynical and sarcastic. “Your parents can’t be that bad. Look at what they raised,” he joked. 

 

“Ha, you’re hilarious, Leo,” he said dryly. “I just laughed off ten pounds. In fact, I’m surprised I didn’t laugh my spleen right out of my asshole.” 

 

“Good, you needed it.” 

 

“What, losing weight or my spleen?” 

 

“Weight.” Leo threw an empty candy wrapper from the floor in his direction. Their room was, thanks to David, disgusting and constantly filled with half-decomposed food. 

 

David made a sound at the back of his throat like he was reluctant to laugh. 

 

“So what are your plans for next year?” Leo asked because it was the only way to say _I miss you_ without actually having to say it. “MIT or something, huh? Stanford?” 

 

“No.” David bit at his nails. He surveyed them carefully before answering, “University of San Francisco.” He paused, looked up. “Are you sufficiently underwhelmed?” 

 

“San Francisco?” Leo repeated, ignoring his question. “Why all the way over there?” 

 

He shrugged. “Full ride.” 

 

“What’s the appeal besides that? ... If you don’t mind my asking.” 

 

“Oh, don’t pretend to be all polite now.” David’s hair was messy and he was glaring at Leo, and Leo had the audacity to smile. “It’s away from my parents. Dad’s in New York, so California is pretty much the farthest away I can be.” 

 

“What, no good program or anything like that? The only appeal is getting as far from your parents as possible?” It was weird, talking to David like that, but Leo liked it and he was struggling to remain normal, but really he was just so fucking excited that they could be _normal_ together that he just _knew_ he was going to say the wrong thing. 

 

David shrugged again. “Just San Francisco and being away from Satan and his mistress.” 

 

“Oh, come on, I’m sure at least one of your parents is okay.” Leo rubbed the back of his neck because talking to David felt normal and god he was obsessed. 

 

“Yeah,” David said mock-cheerfully, “My mom is. She lives somewhere in Spain with her fourth husband. I tried to call her when I was eleven, but she hung up on me. My dad married an eighteen year old porn star two years ago, and he works on designing Playboy. And, you know, all of that would be fine-- the men, the women, the parties, his wife, whatever because she’s actually a hell of a lot nicer than he is-- It would just be really nice to get a call from him once in awhile.” 

 

Leo was silent. David’s hands were balled into fists again. “Well.” 

 

“I hate people like you,” David finally snapped. Leo just looked at him. “When you don’t know what to say, you say nothing at all.” 

 

“Oh.” Leo gave him a weird look. “Well, I hate people like you too.” 

 

David smiled and then, suddenly, “Do you want to grab dinner with me?” 

 

Leo bit back the words, _Like a date?_ and nodded. He turned to change out of his school shirt, and he could feel David watching him. He took his time. And David kept watching. 

 

“Ready?” he asked, his voice rough, and Leo turned around with a fake, bright smile. 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

+ 

 

When they got back from dinner, the whole hall was empty, so they went around stealing pillowcases and made a long ladder that stretched from the second story all the way down to the snowy ground below. 

 

David climbed down gracefully, landing like someone out of a movie with one knee and both hands on the ground. “Come on, Leo,” he shouted, looking up. “Don’t be such a wuss.” 

 

“A wuss,” Leo shouted back. “A wuss? What kind of word is that?” 

 

“Fuck you, that’s what kind of word it is. Now get down here.” David looked up at him impatiently. “Get down here now.” 

 

Leo stared down at the flimsy pillow ladder, thinking, _why the hell did I help the madman build the thing again?_ “I don’t like heights,” he finally admitted. 

 

“You’re afraid of heights?” David laughed, and he really did have such a beautiful smile “Well, good thing you’re such a short lil’ fucker, huh?” 

 

“Right now, I hope I land on you,” Leo shouted, and he felt his fingers and hands start to shake. 

 

“Just come down here?” 

 

Leo grabbed the pillowcase ladder rope and shook his head. “This is crazy. Why do I involve myself in things that concern you?” And then, louder, “If I die doing this, I will come back and haunt the shit out of you.” 

 

“Alright, alright,” David groaned. Snow was beginning to fall again, and David’s hair was littered with snowflakes. He smiled up at Leo, and the night was dark, and it was snowing, and the only light was coming from inside the room and the dim streetlight above David. 

 

Leo sighed and began his unsteady descent. It was just hand over hand and letting himself drop a little each time. “David,” he said finally feeling as though he was close to the ground. “I can’t see how close I am without falling off. Where am I on the rope?” 

 

“It’s okay. You can drop. You’re close enough. Just let go and you’ll be fine.” David was struggling to contain a smile. 

 

“Mmm.” Leo stretched his leg out, trying to reach for the ground, but it didn’t seem to be there. “I can’t reach the ground, and I really don’t understand why we had to do this, like, we could have just walked out the front door.” 

 

“Oh my God,” David groaned, “ _This_ is fun. Have you ever had fun before in your life?” 

 

“Shut up and help me down.” 

 

“Get yourself down.” 

 

“David,” Leo whined. “I’m hanging in midair here, please.” 

 

“Oh my God, fine.” Leo felt David’s arms wrap around his waist hesitantly, and then, “Go ahead and fall.” 

 

Leo let go, and David caught him carefully, his arms wrapping fully around Leo, and it was like neither of them wanted to let go. Leo was warm, and David was warmer. Leo’s jacket was thin and insubstantial, and David’s was big and fluffy. When he offered to bundle Leo up in the same jacket with him-- for warmth, okay?-- Leo agreed. 

 

“Isn’t it a bit gay that we’re sharing a jacket?” Leo asked as they were walking around campus because as David put it, _there’s nothing like a quiet walk around a deserted campus in the snow_. It was very specific, but Leo had a feeling David hadn’t spent too many holidays at home and maybe he was letting Leo into something that had only ever been his own before. 

 

David shrugged. “Well. We are a bit gay. Or at least, I am.” 

 

“Yeah,” Leo said because he thought David would understand just from that simple answer that they both were more than a bit gay,  and he thought David knew because of all the teasing and Leo’s longing looks, but nothing was obvious, apparently, and Leo’s “yeah” worsened things. 

 

“Don’t you think it’s a bit gay that your hand is nearing my ass?” David asked mockingly-- or at least Leo thought it was mocking, but to be fair, it sounded a lot like the voice David used for everything. 

 

“Well, I am a bit gay.” 

 

David snorted. “If I had wanted my own comeback, I would’ve wiped it off your mom’s chin.” Leo snorted too, and David said, “Did you just come out to me though?” He looked pleased. 

 

“Maybe. I don’t know. I’m too frozen to think.” 

 

And David pulled him closer. 

 

+ 

 

messiah: what do I do if i like someone 

CR7: are u drunk 

CR7: or did you just accidentally send this to me 

messiah: i want so badly to punch you in the face 

messiah: but I actually need your advice on this one 

CR7: not my advice, leo 

CR7: seriously 

CR7: I suck at dealing with people I actually like 

CR7: and don’t ask Iker either b/c he’s just a smoking pile of shit when it comes to feelings 

CR7: sergio’s too aggressively in love 

CR7: ask david 

CR7: lmaoooo just kidding i’m just trying to be a dick 

messiah: brb opening window to throw myself out of 

CR7: oh shut up it’s obvious it’s /him/ 

CR7: just go with your gut 

CR7: if you think you should kiss him, just kiss him 

CR7: just fuck it, you know? if it goes badly, it goes badly. you only have to room with him afterwards lmao 

messiah: i hate my life 

messiah: hate it 

messiah: and you 

messiah: i hate you too 

CR7: look, in all seriousness, it’s pretty shitty that you have to room with afterwards no matter what happens, but it’s too important to ignore because you’re afraid, you know??? 

messiah: yeah. yeah I know. 

 

+ 

 

It was Ricky’s first dinner back with his family, and Cristiano was off having fun with Iker. He felt alone at his own dinner table, and Cristiano was off with his best friend, and despite everything Cristiano had to go through, it just didn’t feel fair. 

 

Ricky felt like there was always a part of Cristiano that would belong to Sergio, just from the way they talked, just from the way they looked at each other. He didn’t think Cristiano knew it himself, but he was definitely lying when he said he’d never been in love. 

 

And if there was a part of him that still belonged to Sergio, there was a part of him that still belonged to Iker. Maybe just as friends, maybe as more, but Ricky knew that, sooner or later, it would come to play a role in his life. 

 

There was nothing those two boys wouldn’t do for each other, and Ricky just wondered where he fit in. If it came down to him or Iker (or him or Sergio for that matter), he wondered what Cristiano would do. 

 

Ricky wasn’t the type to make Cristiano choose because he didn’t want to change Cristiano. He liked--loved-- Cristiano the way he was, and he just needed reassuring that his feeling was returned. Because he didn’t always feel that it was. 

 

It was just an insecurity brought to light around his family because he had to pretend he was “better.” He had to pretend he found a pretty girl, and he had to pretend that he was happy. He thought going to boarding school would make him miserable, but he was starting to realize being away from it was really the punishment. 

 

“So,” his father said, straightening his tie, and Ricky wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to wear a suit to the table because it was perfectly normal for some families to eat dinner in their socks and casual clothes, but he stayed silent because his father wasn’t normal and he certainly wasn’t going to listen. “Your mother tells me you found a nice girl while you were away?” 

 

Ricky nodded. 

 

His father smiled. “This is good news, Ricky. Good news. I knew that boarding school would knock it out of you. I went there when I was your age, and I saved kids just like yourself. I’m glad you’ve come to terms with what you are, which is a good, religious man.” He smiled. “Who is attracted to women. Because that is normal.” 

 

“And normal is good, Ricky,” his mother said soothingly. “I’m glad that phase of your life is over, and I’m glad you told us about it in the first place. Otherwise, you would still be going through that.” She patted his hand lovingly. “That was shameful.” 

 

“Shameful,” he repeated, and he looked up at his mother. He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t have to. 

 

She cast a worried look at her husband, and hurriedly said, “But, Ricky, enough of that. The past is the past. Tell us about this girl you’ve met.” 

 

Ricky’s shoulder slumped. “She’s nice.” He frowned. “Or, no, she’s not nice. She’s arrogant and sometimes a little self-centered, but that’s just-- I don’t know-- an act. She’s-- pretty. Sweet. Thoughtful even though she tries not to show it.” 

 

His mother smiled. “And is she religious? Does she go to church?” 

 

Ricky was starting to feel a little light-headed, like he was about to make a bad decision, and he thought about what Cristiano would do and how anything Cris would do was probably a bad idea, but he said, “No, no she doesn’t give a fuck about religion. She says football is her religion. Also this “she” is a “he” and we’ve been dating for a month now.” 

 

He smiled and continued to eat his rice. His mother dropped her fork, and his father was starting to turn purple with rage. The old Ricky would have been afraid, but the new one shoveled in more rice. He even had the nerve to smile. “And we’ve fucked.” 

 

His mother made a sound like she was choking, and his father put his head down on the table. 

 

He laughed. “Dinner’s great, mom.” 

 

+ 

 

cuntrao: eatin my snickers 

cuntrao: lmaoo are you eating iker’s family’s weird health food 

CR7: i’m so mad at you right now 

CR7: we had vegetable soup for dinner 

CR7: with like 

CR7: actual vegetables 

cuntrao: oh my god that’s terrifying 

cuntrao: i’ll ship you a snickers bar??? 

CR7: i’m going to kiss you when I get back 

cuntrao: sh ur a taken man 

CR7: i’m going to kiss you 

cuntrao: don’t make me blush 

CR7: love of my life 

CR7: keeper of my snickers bar 

CR7: master of my sanity 

CR7: marry me 

cuntrao: <3 <3 <3 3 <4 

 

+

 

Iker’s dad was yelling again. Cristiano’s family was playing in the snow together, and even though they were broken and desolate around Christmas because they had lost their father, they were still happier than Iker’s family. 

 

“I just need you to understand, Iker, that your grades are important.” His hair was starting to gray on top of his head, and it made Iker sad that his father was growing older and it would soon become too childish to hate his father as much as he did. “Maybe Cristiano can go and play in the snow around Christmas, but you have to stay in your room and do some studying. Why is this a problem for you?” 

 

“Because,” Iker said softly, “My life isn’t just about being miserable about school all the time. There’s more to my life than just studying and books and killing myself over one grade that isn’t perfect.” 

 

“No, there isn’t, Iker,” he yelled back, and he pounded his fist on the desk to drive home his point. “There is only school for you right now. And in your future, there is success. Your life is that place. Your life is your grades. Everything depends on them. Nothing else should matter to you.” 

 

He was pacing around the office in his dark pants and the sweater Iker’s little brother had given him. He looked like a normal dad lecturing his son about the world, not the former coach of Real Madrid telling his son that nothing mattered but his education, that his _happiness_ didn’t matter compared to his education. 

 

And Iker understood that. He understood that his education was the most important thing. He just. He wanted a dad that understood when he failed a test. He wanted someone to just pat him on the back and say, “That’s okay. I know you’re smart. I know you’re not a complete failure just because of a grade.” 

 

“Iker, go to your room now and work on that english assignment. I know you have one due at the beginning of next semester. Some sort of reflection, right?” He stuck his hands in his pockets and walked over to his desk, staring out the window thoughtfully like he was in a fucking movie or something. “I emailed your English teacher.” He looked back at Iker, and there was a long pause. “And I think there’s something we need to talk about.” 

 

_Oh, god_ , Iker thought, _David told. David must have told_. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, and nodded, sitting down in the chair in front of his father’s desk. “Okay.” 

 

_I’m ready,_ he thought _. All those months of secrecy and I’m finally ready._  

 

His father stared at him like he had never been more ashamed of anyone in his life, and Iker thought, _yeah, me too. I hate myself that much too_. He sat down behind his desk, and folded his hands together like Mourinho had that day Iker was suspended. “How could you get an A- in that class? You’re supposed to be good at English, Iker. How could you get below an A?” 

 

Iker blew out a sigh of relief, not even hearing how his father was going on and on about how he had to get an A in everything and how horrible it was that Iker had _failed_ and that he should kiss his dreams of Harvard or Princeton goodbye. 

 

“You know what, Iker? You’re just lucky you’re not doing this horribly in your Biology class or I would really have cause to worry. If you’re going to be a doctor, I told you--” 

 

“And I told _you_ that I don’t want to be a doctor,” Iker shouted, finally snapping, “And I’ve never wanted to be a doctor. And my dream, Dad, isn’t to get into Harvard or Princeton. My _dream_ is to get you to stay out of my life for once.” 

 

His dad opened his mouth to start yelling again, but Iker put up his hand. “No, not right now. I don’t need another lecture. You have no idea the kind of year I’ve had, and it’s only halfway over. You have no idea the things I’ve been through. I’m fucking seventeen and I’ve practically destroyed a marriage and ruined someone’s career. You don’t even know what I’m talking about, and I can see that you don’t even care. You don’t care that I’ve been miserable this whole semester and you’re only part of the reason.” 

 

“Iker, please--” 

 

“You don’t care that Cristiano was the only one to help me through anything either,” Iker continued, still yelling because he had the momentum. “And you still look down on his family. Every time I come home, I’m ashamed to be related to you. Every time I tell someone who my father is, they get this look in their eyes, like _wow,_ you must be so _lucky_ , and that makes me the saddest because I used to think that too. I used to think I was so _lucky_ that you were my father, but I just see that it’s like this fucking curse hanging over my head and it will be for the rest of my life.” 

 

“Iker,” he cut in, and his voice was stern, not even the slightest bit pained. 

 

“I’m not going to be a doctor and neither is Unai.” Iker gripped the arms of his chair so hard his knuckles shone white. “You tortured me all throughout my childhood about being perfect and being the best at everything, and you’re not going to do the same to him. Just stay out of our lives if you can’t help but fuck up.” 

 

Iker stood up, glaring and burning because the room felt like a fucking sauna. He shoved something off his dad’s desk in a blind rage, and stormed out, slamming the door on his way. 

 

+ 

 

Xabi and Steven were visiting California for the break. Since Xabi had already turned eighteen and his parents were pretty relaxed about everything (the total opposite of him), they agreed to let him take a trip with Steven alone. Even Xabi protested more to the trip than they did because time alone with Steven meant talking about things that made him too sad to pretend to smile. 

 

But California was sunnier than Philadelphia and they found a small beach where no one was, and they stayed there long after it started to rain, bundled up in their blankets and their coats, hanging on to each other and watching the rise and fall of the tide. 

 

“This is pretty, huh?” 

 

“Yeah.” Steven sat up and Xabi fell back against the sand. “Kind of depressing though. It seems like everything is depressing because we’re graduating, you know? And, like, you’re going to make something of yourself and you deserve to, but I’m going to be useless. And that sort of sucks to know.” 

 

Xabi sat up and bumped his shoulder. “You’re not going to be useless. You’ll never be useless. You’re just gifted in other ways.” 

 

“That’s the kind of thing you say to stupid kids, Xabi. Fuck you, that doesn’t help.” But he was smiling down at Xabi affectionately because he was sweet and mild-mannered and just trying to help with something he couldn’t understand for the life of him. 

 

“How can I--” Xabi started just as Steven said, “I have a question for you.” 

 

“Go ahead.” 

 

“Why have we never slept together?” Steven stuck his finger in the sand, trying to avoid looking at Xabi. He drew a little house in the sand. “I mean, we’ve never really talked about it because we’ve never really had to talk about it, but I think we should talk about it now.” 

 

“I don’t want to sleep with you,” Xabi said after a long pause. His hair was sticking up in every direction because of the wind, matted down in places because of the rain, and Steven had never seen him so disheveled looking and he had never seen him so beautiful. 

 

“Oh.” Steven looked away. 

 

“I mean, Stevie, not like _that_. It’s just that we’ve agreed to break up at the end of the year no matter what, and I’m already in love with you.” Xabi sighed a little at the end of the word like something was caught in his throat and he couldn’t go on. “I already love you. Don’t make it any worse. Please just don’t make it worse.” 

 

The other boy looked down and nodded and he drew a heart in the sand. 

 

+ 

 

They were wrapped in the sheets and it was after Sergio’s first time with Fernando and Fernando’s first time. They didn’t talk about it and they didn’t really think about it. They were just teasing each other about the night before and then kissing, and then Fernando found himself on his back and he was _begging_ Sergio to do anything to him. 

 

Fernando buried his face in Sergio’s neck, wondering for the millionth time how he got so lucky. And then, out loud, “Why did you choose me?” 

 

“Because you’re pretty,” Sergio said exhaustedly, poking Fernando’s cheek. “That’s all. Just looks. Just the ass and the freckles.” He slapped Fernando on the ass, and Fernando made a noise against Sergio’s neck. 

 

“Rude.” 

 

“And because you’re sweet and funny and you’re not always confident, but when you are, it’s like you can do or say anything and the world is only spinning because you’re the way you are... if that makes sense.” Sergio bit his lip. “I don’t know if that makes sense actually, but I like you a lot and I hate when you doubt it.” 

 

Fernando buried his face deeper in Sergio’s neck, and then he was smiling and tickling Sergio on his back where Sergio couldn’t stand to be tickled, and then Sergio was wresting him off. Fernando knew it was something he couldn’t win, but he struggled in vain against Sergio’s arms anyway. And then Sergio was settling Fernando on top of him, and Fernando was showering him with kisses. 

 

“I hate you,” Fernando sighed decisively. “I hate you because you have a nice face and a nice body and a nice everything, and as much as I wanted to believe that made you an awful person--” He wrinkled his nose. “I was wrong.” 

 

+ 

 

On Christmas, Sergio and Fernando opened presents together. 

 

Ricky opened none, locked away in his room. 

 

Cristiano and Iker opened presents with their arms wrapped around Unai, tickling him until he finally admitted that, okay, he did like his new pajamas that they had picked out for him. 

 

Steven and Xabi gave each other a small gift, and neither of them smiled. 

 

Leo and David awoke to find themselves squished onto the same bed. Leo’s hair was falling into his face, and David’s was sticking out in every direction. They smiled at each other, and Leo blushed before David unceremoniously dumped him off the bed. “How the hell did you get there anyway?” 

 

Leo got a present shipped to him from his parents. David got nothing. Leo smiled and bought him a coffee from the machine downstairs and said, “Merry Christmas?” 

 

David took the coffee from it, and his hand lingered on Leo’s for too long. “Thanks.” 

 

“Just trying to be nice,” Leo teased, echoing David’s words from before they were friends. 

 

+ 

 

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	17. Drunk Off My Ass And Tasting Like Shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sergio Ramos had one motto and that motto was this: when in doubt, throw a party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what the fuck this chapter is. Nothing good ever comes out of drunk writing at 4 am  
> inspiration from textsfromlastnight

The worst thing about returning to school was that they were returning to school. For Xabi it meant stressing out about grades. For Iker, it meant stressing out about what a shitty person he’d become. For Cesc, it had become stressing out about how next he could get himself beaten up. Cristiano was worried about his family and damaging Ricky. Ricky was worried about Cristiano worrying about him. Xabi and Stevie were worried about their future together. And Leo and David were worried about giving themselves away. 

 

It would have been a hot mess, but it was high school so it was just a big fucking mess. 

 

The first time Cesc and Iker were actually in the same room together was the first day back, after dinner where they were assigned to kitchen detention because the lunch detention had been full. Everything was a huge mess with scheduling as Mourinho had changed his mind about stepping down. All the teachers got ready to move around their schedules in order for the new dean to step in, but at the last second, Mourinho decided he was staying and no one had time to settle down. It was so _Mourinho_ -esque to pull a move like that. 

 

So Cesc and Iker were pushed back to dinner kitchen detention which actually wasn’t as bad as lunch because people seemed to be less rowdy during dinner and there weren’t as many food fights to mop up. 

 

Cesc was standing at the sink when Iker arrived. He was on his third plate and his shirt was already soaking wet. His blazer was on the floor next to the flour and his belt was a little loose. His pants had wet handprints on them from where he’d wiped the extra moisture, and his hair was longer than Iker remembered. 

 

It was painful to see him there, just working and standing and biting his lip because Iker _cared_ and he ached for how much he cared. But it hurt even more when Cesc turned to look at him because, when Iker saw his whole face clearly, it felt like he’d been slapped across the face with a house. 

 

His eyes were red-rimmed, bloodshot, and puple-ish black. There were yellowing bruises from his jaw to the collar of his shirt, and Iker knew they probably stretched farther down than that. His lip was cut and covered in dried blood like maybe him smiling had cut it open again. There was a scar disappearing into his hairline, and the sight of him hurt like that made Iker sick to his stomach. 

 

And _angry_. Very, very angry. Because Cesc just went around and did whatever he wanted without even wondering if it would make Iker feel guilty, without even thinking that maybe Iker would blame himself. Or maybe that’s what he wanted all along? For Iker to blame himself? 

 

Iker dropped his backpack, and Cesc’s gaze flicked up to meet his. “Hey,” he said roughly, and he turned back to the sink. “I’ll wash, you dry. Or, you know, whatever you want since it’s always got to be that way.” 

 

“Really?” Iker snapped. “Are you serious right now?” But Cesc didn’t answer, just tossed a towel to Iker and they began to wash the dishes together. 

 

David Luiz, Juan Mata, and that dumb Robin kid Iker hated were standing in the corner doing the easy task of organizing kitchen utensils and it pissed Iker off, but he also wanted to be standing near Cesc, as much as it hurt him, as much as it made him angry. He couldn’t wrap his head around all that he was feeling, and he couldn’t really talk about it either because he sounded like a basket case. 

 

“What happened?” Iker asked, his voice low and rough and distant. He dried a dish and nearly dropped the next one when their hands touched. 

 

Cesc just glared. 

 

“Over break,” Iker clarified. “You know, with your face.” 

 

“Like you have a right to know,” Cesc scoffed, and he practically threw the next dish at Iker. 

 

The other boy was quiet for a moment, and Cesc stared at him while he looked away because Iker had gotten a haircut and his sleeves were pushed up to his elbows and _god, nothing had changed_. 

 

“And what the fuck qualifies as a right to know, Cesc? I mean--” He chewed his lip and let out a quiet laugh. “I mean, what would make me more deserving of knowing what happened to my _friend_?” 

 

Cesc’s hands tightened around the next plate. “We’re not friends, Iker.” 

 

He looked down. “No, you made sure of that the minute you kissed me.” 

 

“Are you fucking serious right now? Are you blind?” Cesc threw the plate down and it shattered into a million pieces. Iker reared back, his mouth falling half-open. “Did your ex-boyfriend fuck you up in the head so much that you can’t even see what you’ve done to me? And you’re lecturing me about ruining this friendship?” 

 

Iker was practically seeing red because Cesc was such a little piece of shit, but Iker loved him and he wanted to shove him against the wall and scream at him and then also make him feel better and fuck him and-- 

 

“Get out,” he snapped to the other three boys who had started to stare. They began to protest, but Iker narrowed his eyes. “Get the fuck out now before you piss me off.” 

 

They filed out silently, and then the room was empty and the sink was filling up with soap suds and half of them were already down Cesc’s shirt. His shirt was see-through because of the water, clinging to his stomach, and he didn’t have the perfect body like Cristiano. Cesc had a little stomach, a little pudge, and every time Iker saw him in practice, he wanted to smile and poke at his stomach and tease him for being so fucking adorable. 

In a flash, Iker was pressing Cesc against the wall, and he was glaring at him and practically gnashing his teeth like a wild animal he was so angry. “What the fuck gives you the right to treat yourself like this?” 

 

Cesc didn’t even try to push him away. He smiled, and his lip split again. Blood ran over. 

 

Cesc’s shirt was soaking into Iker’s, and Iker leaned closer still until his lips were inches away from Cesc’s, and only then did his glare soften. There was a moment in which he hesitated, his eyes silently begging permission. Cesc’s nod was so small that Iker wondered if it was all in his imagination. 

 

But Iker didn’t have time to wonder because then their lips were brushing and Iker was shoving him harder against the wall, pressing up against him so hard that Cesc thought his eyes would roll back. 

 

“I love you,” Cesc snarled against the kiss, biting at Iker’s lip until he tore skin. He pressed back against Iker and Iker kept backing him into the wall, so hard that Cesc could feel the bruises forming right over the ones from the week before. 

 

“I know,” Iker spat back, panting for breath, and then he was ripping at one of the buttons on Cesc’s shirt and Cesc was arching his back like he was offering himself up. “How does that feel?” he breathed, and it should have sounded hot, but he was tracing the bruise on Cesc’s collarbone with his index finger and it just sounded sinister. “You don’t get to hurt this,” he growled, biting at Cesc’s neck. “You don’t get to hurt any of this.” And only then did Iker’s voice soften and break. 

 

And he meant _you don’t get to hurt yourself because you belong to me and I belong to you, but it’s not really about ownership and none of it makes sense, but if you can’t take care of yourself, then I’ll do it for you_. But it didn’t come out like that, so Cesc didn’t understand. 

 

Cesc wanted to fall into the kiss, but he pushed back against Iker instead and bit at his neck when Iker came up for air. He wanted to look at Iker and tell him that he loved him, again in the way that he meant, but he stayed quiet and let it hurt. 

 

“Cesc,” Iker finally whispered, and he didn’t sound angry anymore, so Cesc pulled away and looked at him, and they stayed like that until Cesc blinked and understood that Iker didn’t have anything else to say. 

 

“Are you ever going to finish what you start?” Cesc waited for an answer with his eyes wide and pained, his lips bloody. 

 

“No,” Iker admitted with a laugh that hurt like a motherfucker. “Probably not.” 

 

Cesc turned back to the sink and he let the water spill on him again. He didn’t turn to pick up the broken plate, and he didn’t turn to hand Iker the plate he had finished washing. He swiped at his wet eyes instead. 

 

“That’s not fair, you know,” he said finally, his voice choked. “That’s not really fair to start something you can’t finish. And it’s not fair-- it’s just not fair that I feel the way that I do.” His eyes were filling with tears again, and there was nothing Iker could do because there was a lump in his throat too and seeing Cesc in pain hurt like nothing else in the world. 

 

It was quiet for a long time, and the only sound in the kitchen was Cesc’s shaky breathing, an occasional sniffle from him, and the water running quietly in the background. The tiled floor was wet and littered with the pieces of the shattered plate. It looked like a battlefield to Iker, like everything was dying all around him. 

 

“Destruction,” he said finally, quoting from memory, “can be beautiful to some people. Don’t ask me why. It just is. And if they can’t find anything to destroy, they destroy themselves.” 

 

Cesc looked up slowly, confused but recognizing the quote. “What are you--” 

 

“From your book. The book you turned into D-- Mr. Beckham. You wrote that quote in the margins.” Iker looked down at his hands because he couldn’t bear to see the terrible happiness that spread over Cesc’s features. “Destruction is beautiful. You’re destruction. You’re beautiful.” 

 

And he turned on his heel and left because fuck detention. 

 

+ 

 

Ricky and Cristiano were walking out by the lake behind the school when Ricky finally began to talk about his Christmas vacation. He talked with his hands a lot, and his eyes were shining because he was proud of himself, but he was hurting too because he wasn’t the sort of person to lash out like that and -- 

“I’m glad I did it. It just hurts sometimes, you know?” He brushed his hair out of his eyes to disguise the fact that he was close to crying. “And I can’t tell whether I’m doing the right thing or not. And I’m beginning to wonder if that’s the most important thing, doing the right thing, I mean. Why isn’t happiness more important?” 

 

“And the two aren’t always connected,” Cristiano agreed. He wanted to put an arm around Ricky to make him feel better, but he didn’t because he knew it was because of him that Ricky was confused and he felt like he poisoned people. It wasn’t a devastating, shocking realization. It was just Cristiano accepting what he always knew to be true. “Happiness and doing the right thing are rarely connected.” 

 

“I don’t agree with that,” Ricky said, frowning. “I think they’re normally connected. Just. Not with love. Not with... not with--” 

 

“Me,” Cristiano finished, and he stopped, shoved his hands in his pockets, and turned away from Ricky to stare at the water. 

 

“Well, yes, that’s what I was going to say, but...” Ricky paused and moved to stand next to Cristiano, frowning and watching him like he wasn’t sure what to make of the silent, thoughtful response. “I don’t mean it the way you think I do. You make my version of ‘ _right’_ change.” 

 

Cristiano kicked at a stone on the ground. “And? Is that a good thing or a bad thing or are you as fucking confused as I am?” 

 

Ricky laughed under his breath. “Why would you ever be confused?” Like Cristiano had everything worked out. Like, despite knowing Cristiano, Ricky honestly still thought he had all the answers. 

 

“Because you’re an angel,” Cristiano said simply. “And I’m, like, fucking cutting off your wings.” 

 

Ricky smiled, playing along. “Cut ‘em. It doesn’t hurt.” 

 

“But it will,” Cristiano insisted, and it was his turn to frown. “Can’t you see that it will hurt you eventually?” 

 

“I don’t see anything like that, Cris. I just see that I’m happy now and I want to be happy now instead of freaking out over how my heart is going to be broken in the future. It’s not broken now. Don’t break it before you have to.” 

 

“I don’t ever _have to_. It’s just what I do.” 

 

Ricky knew better than to argue with Cristiano over something like that, so he just threaded his fingers through Cristiano’s with a tired sigh and they walked a little bit more until they were out of the shade and back under the open gray sky. 

 

+ 

 

Sergio Ramos had one motto and that motto was this: when in doubt, throw a party. 

 

He was sitting with David Villa in David’s room trying to plan the thing, but David was already drunk and he was a little drunk too and the two of them together wasn’t even a good idea sober. “So, what do we need, man, focus, what do we need?” 

 

“Five things,” David said, sprawling himself out on Iker’s bed while Iker moped somewhere in the bathroom. He was always moping. David found him to be extraordinarily boring. “Booze, booze, tequila, vodka, cups.” 

 

“Dude,” Sergio moaned, “The last time I drank tequila, I ended up swimming naked in Iker’s parents’ fish pond. I think they nibbled my dick.” 

 

“Is that your excuse for it being so small?” 

 

“I don’t have a fish pond,” Iker called from the bathroom. 

 

“Then what was biting my dick?” Sergio shivered. “God, now I’m really fucking scared. Don’t put me down for tequila.” 

 

David grinned, and he brandished an imaginary pen. “Putting you down for tequila because this is something I must see.” 

 

+ 

 

The party was in full swing by the time Iker dropped by his own room on Friday night. He sighed loudly and dropped his bag near his bed, politely asking a few girls to leave the bed before slamming the door (unheard over the music) and collapsing on his bed. Someone promptly opened it again. 

 

When Sergio threw a party, it was like a national holiday. People cut class the day of to prepare, girls came flooding in from all the schools in the district, elaborate sheet chains ran down the side of the building in case the floor chaperone was tipped off. The windows were their getaway and it wasn’t truly a Sergio Ramos party if no one jumped out the window. 

 

The party stretched from Sergio’s room (with the snacks and drinks) all the way down and through the hallway to David’s room at the top of the stairs. It was enormous and every room was open for business. If you didn’t want party-goers in your room, well, first of all, too bad, and secondly, barricade your door. 

 

Sergio was outside Iker’s room, yelling in David’s ear because Javi was the talk of the party. “His ex-girlfriend just gave his current girlfriend a lap dance. Oh my god, oh my god, this is so awkward.” 

 

“Fuck off with your ‘awkward,’” David shouted back. “That’s hot as shit. See that vagina? That vagina means business. I’d go _straight_ for her. I’m not kidding, I would.” 

 

“That’s Javi’s girlfriend,” Sergio moaned. “He’s so dumb. How does he get a girl like that?” She had long blonde hair and these amazing green almond-shaped eyes and Sergio didn’t blame David for offering up his sexuality to the gods of sex and lust for a chance to even speak to her. 

 

“He’s dumb?” David spilled his drink on Sergio as he doubled over laughing. “You’re saying he’s dumb? You’re Sergio Ramos. You invented dumb. You came out of dumb’s womb. You are as dumb as a person can be.” 

 

“How can I have invented dumb _and_ have come out of dumb’s wombed?” Sergio waggled his eyebrows. 

 

“ _Wombed_? The fuck is _wombed_?” 

 

“ _WOMB_. I MEANT WOMB.” 

 

David snorted into his drink. “Our drunk conversations are the burst.” 

 

“BURST?” 

 

“BEST.” 

 

+

 

Cristiano was in the middle of the room dancing with a clump of people and Ricky was off to the side, staring morosely into his drink until he caught sight of Cesc staring at the door to Iker’s room, looking like he was about to light something on fire. 

 

Ricky was about to stop him, but he turned around, made himself a drink, and found a pretty girl in blue to talk to. Ricky shrugged and turned away only to find a tall girl with piercing eyes, staring down at him, licking her lips. “You have that freshly fucked look,” she said matter-of-factly. “Well worn, you know? Presumably from the procession of dick down asshole lane?” She directed her gaze to Cristiano, and then turned to smile again at Ricky. “Rumor has it you’re dating.” 

 

He shrugged. “Rumors...” he began helplessly. “You know how they can be.” 

 

“Oh, yeah,” she agreed mockingly. “I know just how rumors can be. But, Ricky...” She leaned forward to put her lips right next to his ear, so close that they brushed him with her every breath. “Blowjob season is limited but divine. And I’d tear out my own fucking soul to have a little fun with you tonight.” She smiled, slapped his ass, and left. 

 

Ricky was bright red and terrified, and he immediately left to get some air. 

 

+ 

 

Leo was milling around near the bathroom line, trying to avoid leaving that area because he’d seen Antonella in the hallway and he really didn’t want the whole “Oh we haven’t talked in a few years but let’s pretend nothing’s changed” shit to go down. 

 

He was drunk off his ass like the rest of the room, and he found David easily enough. He almost tripped on his way, but David grabbed his arm, pulled him up, and together the two of them stood in the middle of the makeshift dance floor, screaming over the noise. 

 

“Do you dance?” David yelled. 

 

“Do I what?” Leo screamed back because all he could hear was Javi yelling “asshole, asshole, asshole” over and over again the corner, flapping his arms and pretending to be a mongoose with wings. 

 

“Dance, do you dance?” 

 

“NO.” Leo looked horrified. “No, no, I don’t dance, and I especially don’t dance to Sergio’s music.” 

 

David laughed easily. “One time he got Marcelo to do a mash-up of some flamenco shit and a One Direction song, and I’ve never wanted to puke more in my life.” 

 

Leo cocked his head, hating himself for never knowing the ‘cool’ music. “Is that what’s playing now?” 

 

“What?” 

 

“I said, IS _THAT_ WHAT’S PLAYING NOW?” 

 

“NO.” David shook his head quickly, and Leo noticed his hair didn’t flop in his face when he did that anymore. He must have gotten a haircut. He looked older. Leo would have said more mature, but he’d met David, so. “THIS IS JUST ONE DIRECTION.” 

 

“YOU KNOW, INSTEAD OF--” 

  
“MAYBE WE SHOULD JUST DANCE INSTEAD OF TALKING. I CAN’T HEAR A WORD OF WHAT YOU’RE SAYING.” 

 

Leo nodded, and he started to flap his hands uncomfortably. He added some shuffling in of his feet because that’s what other people were doing and it looked more right than just standing there with hand-flappage. 

 

David took one look at him trying to dance and burst out laughing. “Are you shitting me right now?” He patted Leo’s head adoringly and moved forward to grab his hands. “Don’t do this. You look like a gay flamenco dancer.” 

 

“I _am_ gayyyyyy,” Leo moaned out, and two girls ahead of him turned around with wide uncomfortable smiles. Oh, _fuck off_. 

 

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” David laughed, but it came out quiet, like a nervous chuckle rather than the loud, confident display he wanted it to be. 

 

But then he wasn’t thinking anymore because he was drunk and fuck thinking. He was dancing with Leo and grinding their hips together and moving in ways he didn’t even know he could. He knew he was a _good_ dancer, but dancing with Leo was like touching the fucking sky and having stars or some shit rain down on his head. It was like some otherworldly experience and maybe it was the tequila speaking, but when he pressed his lips to Leo’s collarbone, he thought he heard a pleased moan in response. 

 

+ 

 

Fabio was half hanging out the window yelling “SHE LOOKS LIKE A GREMLIN. SHE LOOKS LIKE A GREMLIN. DON”T GET HER WET.” And then he started laughing at himself and tugging at the ladder made out of sheets. “ _Wet_. God. Wet. Don’t get her wet.” He doubled over and almost started puking. 

 

But Cristiano was there, hauling him back to his feet and slapping him on the back. “Come on Fabio. Hold on to your drink or say goodbye to any self-respect you were stupid enough to have in the first place.” 

 

“Bye, self-respect,” Fabio said weakly. He puked all over his shoes. 

 

“Oh _good god_. Alright, let’s get you to the bathroom.” He pulled at the back of Fabio’s sweaty t-shirt. “Puke on me and I’ll eat your innards. Don’t fucking test me.” He pulled Fabio up again and they stumbled over to the hall bathroom. 

 

Fabio stuck his face in the toilet and Cristiano nodded politely to the three girls who filed out immediately. “Hey, have you seen Iker tonight?” 

 

Fabio wiped his mouth and looked up. “Are you talking to me?” 

 

Cristiano handed him a paper towel for the vomit stain on his sneakers. “No, I’m talking to this _shower curtain_. Yes, I’m fucking talking to you. Have you seen Iker?” 

 

Fabio turned to the toilet and gagged a few times before turning back to Cristiano and answering, quite cheerfully for a puking boy, “Yeah, he was in his room singing ‘now you’re just somebody that I used to blow’ to some shit on his computer. I don’t know, man. He’s fucked up.” 

 

Cristiano rolled his eyes. “Stick your head back in the toilet. If anyone comes in, pretend you’re about to puke on them and they’ll leave.” 

 

“I won’t have to pretend,” Fabio groaned into the toilet. 

 

“Alright. Just don’t puke on anyone we like.” He thought about it for a second. He loosened his tie and grinned. “Puke on Leo. I’ll be right back.” 

 

Cristiano made his way back through the crowd of people in the hallway to Iker and Sergio’s room. The smell was overwhelming, and he had the sudden urge to vomit and he hadn’t even had a drop to drink. 

 

He passed Javi who was now dancing in the hallway. He’d taken one of Sergio’s trophies, taped it to his head with duct tape, and was spearing the walls like an angry bull. “I’m a moose,” he yelled. “Proud stag prancin’ around.” And he actually had a group of girls following him, giggling like he was a god. 

 

“Be a frog, Javi. Do the frog again,” one of them called, and she did a cute impersonation of what Javi had done earlier. Cristiano doubted Javi’s looked anything like that. 

 

He shook his head and continued on to find Iker, but Iker wasn’t on his bed and he wasn’t in their bathroom. Cristiano continued down the hall without seeing a sign of Iker anywhere. Finally, he was forced to search outside because sometimes people stumbled outside drunk and alone and that never ended well. Sometimes they fell in the lake. 

 

“IKER,” he called, and someone yelled “Polo” with a dumbass laugh. “Fuck off,” Cristiano mumbled, and he walked until he was back at the lake and, sure enough, there was Iker, sitting in the shallow water, pouting like a petulant child. 

 

“Hello darkness, my old friend,” he said mournfully as Cristiano approached. 

 

Cristiano sat down in the water with him, wincing a little as the freezing cold water seeped over his legs. “What’s up with you and the moping? It’s a week into the second semester and you’ve already got me beat for most miserable bastard. What the fuck, I thought we agreed we were going to keep it even until at least a month in.” 

 

“School, parents, school, Cesc, everything...” He waved his hand sloppily. He let it drop in the water, splashing them both. “And now I’ve sat in the water and I’m cold and it looks like I pissed my pants.” 

 

“It’s okay.” Cristiano tried to hide his smile. “It looks like I did too.” 

 

“Maybe I’m not even sitting in a lake right now. Maybe I have actually just pissed my pants. Maybe I pissed his whole lake into existence.” He looked up to check his theory with Cristiano. He raised his eyebrows like _this is possible_. 

 

“I can assure you that you have not, Iker.” 

 

“Whatever you say, Cris. You know everything,” Iker snapped frustratedly. He put his hands in the water and brought his hands to his nose like he was trying to smell the water to make sure it wasn’t his piss. 

 

“Not everything, sweetheart. I just know that you didn’t piss this lake into existence. It’s been around a lot longer than your dick has.” He grabbed Iker’s hands and made him stop smelling them. 

 

Iker violently rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He folded his arms over his chest because he was upset and restless and, yeah, sitting down in the fucking lake wasn’t the best idea in the world, but fuck it. 

 

“Want to go back inside?” 

 

“No.” 

 

“What I want to do is tell Cesc what he means to me.” 

 

There was a long pause and then, from behind Cristiano, “Then why don’t you?” Cesc walked forward and plopped himself down in the water with them. He stared at Iker, and Iker stared back. 

 

Cristiano stood up to leave, soaking wet and smiling. 

 

They sat there in silence for a long time, and then Iker messed with the water some more. He splashed Cesc a little bit, but Cesc didn’t laugh. “I’m really drunk right now, so I don’t know what I’m saying, but basically I’ve put you through hell because I was put through hell by David, and that wasn’t right and _we’re_ right and I don’t know what I’m saying, but I want to kiss you. All the time. All of a sudden. Like I can’t breathe if I don’t kiss you, and that’s a pretty stupid thought to have, now that I think about it, because my literal ability to breathe has nothing to do with me kissing you-- or me not kissing you.” 

 

He took a deep breath, expected Cesc to respond, but the other boy just looked up at him, blinking slowly like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. 

 

“I stole that poetry book from your classroom for a reason. That reason is-- fuck, I can’t say anything poetic right now and I can’t remember that thing I was going to quote to you, but, dammit, you mean a lot to me. I’d like to... I’d like to make it up to you, to make everything up to you, if that’s alright.” 

 

“If that’s alright,” Cesc echoed with a laugh. A long pause and then, “Yeah, Iker. Yeah, I guess that’s alright.” 

 

+ 

 

“DRUNK GRINDING YO,” yelled David over the music, and his mouth was pressed against Leo’s neck and Leo looked like he was about to pass out at any second, so he pulled him over to Sergio’s bed, sat him down and pulled the covers over him even though that was impractical because the rest of the party was still going on and Leo wasn’t about to sleep on the bed Sergio and Fernando _did it_ on. 

 

“Don’t put me on this gross bed, David.” He squirmed and David stared down at him, open-mouthed and too spaced out to even pretend he wasn’t staring. “It’s an ocean of cum. I can feel it rotting my bones already.” 

 

“Cum doesn’t rot your bones.” 

 

“Want to test that theory?” Leo snapped, and he slapped at David’s upper arm. 

 

David let go of the covers and sat back against the wall. The party continued to go on around them, and everyone was having a good time, but David felt that familiar misery settling on his chest because he couldn’t say the things he wanted to say or do the things he wanted to do... or do the _person_ he wanted to do. 

 

But alcohol loosens lips, so-- “I do want to test that theory,” he muttered, trying to be hot, but Leo just looked confused and he backpedaled quickly. “I mean, not the rotting my bones theory. I don’t want my bones to rot. I--” 

 

“The cum theory,” Leo said, and he flopped onto his back, staring up at the ceiling and his heart was racing, but he didn’t know why and he could hardly understand what David was saying because he’d had more to drink than he ever had in his life and he’d been informed by Cristiano that he was a cranky drunk. 

 

“Hubble’s Law of Cosmic Cum,” David blurted out, nodding like this was all normal. 

 

“The fucks’ that?” 

 

“Like Hubble’s Law of Cosmic Expansion,” he explained proudly. “I don’t know, one day I made this whole list of scientific sex theories. Fuck my life. I don’t even remember what that one was. Something about velocity and distance, I don’t even know.” 

 

“Oh my god.” Leo rolled over onto his stomach and started laughing so hard into the pillow David was worried he would suffocate. His eyes turned into little crescent moons when he smiled like that and David wanted to reach out and poke him in the eye because it was beautiful. “What were the others?” 

 

“Kepler’s Law of Planetary Cum, Universal Law of Cum, Newton’s Laws of Cummotion. Get it? Cum. Motion. Cummotion like Commotion.” Leo stared back blankly. “ _Really_? I almost laughed up my liver when I made that one, alright, fuck you then. And Laws of Thermo-dy-damn-dicks.” 

 

“Jesus,” Leo snorted and he shoved his face into the supposedly cum soaked covers. “Jesus Christ, David.” And they were laughing for the longest time together and then, finally, David’s hand slipped into Leo’s and neither of them let go. 

 

Leo still looked like he was going to pass out and, when his smile faded, he put his head on David’s shoulder and shut his eyes. David could feel Leo’s breathe on his cheek until he was fast asleep and David was still looking down at him wondering what the hell was happening. 

 

+ 

 

Xabi and Steven didn’t go to the party. They just stayed in Xabi’s room under the covers and Xabi buried his face in the other boy’s chest, and he was content to stay there for the rest of the night because it was loud and annoying outside and everything was perfect as long as they were together. 

 

And then the door opened and the noise flooded in from the hallway and someone yelled, “YO ARE THOSE TWO GUYS IN BED TOGETHER?” because Esteban hadn’t closed the door quick enough. 

 

“Yeah, suck my dick,” Esteban shouted back. He nodded to Steven and Xabi like this was entirely normal. He had no problems seeing them in bed together. He walked in on them making out all the time, so he was desensitized to it by now. “Hey, how’s your purity pact going?” 

 

“Still pure,” Xabi called back, his voice muffled. “What are you doing in here, Esteban?” 

 

“It’s my room,” the other boy replied. “And it’s loud outside.” He pushed his glasses up his nose. “I’m _not_ like other kids. I don’t really like parties. I don’t listen to that kind of music. I’m just not like that.” 

 

“We know,” Steven growled, putting his arm over his face tiredly. “You’re better than us. We’ve heard it all before.” 

 

Esteban sighed. “Whatever, I’m going to make my tea now. And I have a meeting with my book club. So you guys can enjoy your time together and the noisy party outside, but I ain’t about this life.” He sighed loudly and left the room, the door slamming behind him. 

 

“HEY, THOSE TWO GUYS ARE IN BED TOGETHER,” the party-goer shouted again. 

 

“YOU SAID THAT FIVE SECONDS AGO, YOU DOUCHESNOODLE.” Esteban was so fucking done. 

 

“Things aren’t always going to be this way,” Xabi said sadly, and he rolled off Steven to lay next to him, watching him carefully. “Are they?” 

 

“No, it sucks that I found you now instead of later. And it sucks that you’re breaking my heart.” He laughed quietly under his breath, but it ended quickly, and when he tucked his head into Xabi’s chest, he didn’t think he was capable of ever smiling again. 

 

And he knew it was stupid because he was in high school and he wasn’t supposed to fall in love at eighteen years old, but if it wasn’t love, it was maddeningly close to it. 

 

+ 

 

“I have demons in me,” Sergio moaned as Fernando dragged him back to his own quiet room where Juan was busy reading _Lord of the Flies_ for “fun.” “I have demons _inside_ of me, Nando.”  

 

“Alright, why don’t you just--” Sergio lurched for the trash can, promptly puking into it with a sound that made Juan look up with a horrified expression. “--yeah, puke into my trash can. That’s cool too. Just, yeah, get it all out. Okay.” 

 

“Everything tastes like shame,” Sergio moaned, and he collapsed on Fernando’s bed, wiping at his mouth. “And whipped cream. I think I licked whipped cream off of someone’s nipples.” He winced. “Did that happen?” 

 

Fernando nodded silently. He hated parties. He really, really hated parties because he was always someone’s bitch in the corner, but this time he was Sergio’s bitch and Sergio was throwing the party and he had to watch Sergio do all this crazy shit without even thinking about the fact that he had a boyfriend. 

 

“Everything tastes like shame,” Sergio moaned again. “Did I staple someone’s bra to the ceiling?” 

 

Fernando nodded again. 

 

He paused because even in his drunken state he could see. “Are you pissed?” 

 

Fernando patted his head. “Just sleep, oh little one. We’ll talk when you’re puking in the morning.”   



	18. Are You Trying To Kill Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iker waved his hand. “Welcome to the jungle, my friend. Enjoy your stay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is shorter than the other chapters by like a page or two, sorry about that, I was pressed for time

Leo awoke to a headache and the oh-shit-slightly-more-than-vague feeling that he was going to puke up the contents of half his stomach along with his gall bladder and testicles or some shit. He felt sick. Like, he really, really felt sick. He didn’t feel hangover sick. He felt hangover plus _I’ll puke on everything you love and then sneeze in your face until you cry_ kind of sick. 

 

He rolled over on his bed, and he saw David on his computer, busily clicking away with bags under his eyes and a tent in his shorts. He absentmindedly placed his hand over his crotch, and Leo jolted up in bed-- or he tried to. He fell back right away, but the sudden movement shocked David into looking up. 

 

“Please don’t do that,” Leo croaked out. He tried coughing the dryness out of his throat, but it only worsened, and his vision nearly went black. “I’ve already seen you masturbate in front of me. Please put little David away and keep him in your pants.” 

 

“Not that little,” David said cheerily, but he adjusted his laptop to cover his situation. “But, seriously, it’s the morning, what do you expect?” 

 

“Why are you so happy? How are you not on the floor vomiting up a small planet?” Leo thought about putting the pillow over his face, but he knew it would just make him feel suffocated and then he would puke. He would probably puke no matter what he did though. 

 

David shrugged. “Not my first rodeo. I woke up earlier, got some coffee, drank a ton of water, pissed an entire lake’s worth of piss, vomited up everything I’ve ever eaten in my life...” He relaxed against the wall and stretched his feet out in front of him, smiling contentedly. “And now I feel less shitty.” 

 

“I will not puke. I refuse.” Leo rolled over and put his face in his pillow. “I’ll die before I puke.” 

 

“Please don’t be so dramatic.” David shut his laptop and walked over, cleared some cups off Leo’s bed, and pulled back the covers. “Rise and shine, beautiful. We have a whole weekend of watching Sergio clean this place up.” 

 

Leo turned over and shook his head, his hair falling in his eyes. He didn’t even try to brush it away. “I need my blankets. I’m cold and sick.” 

 

“You’re hungover,” David said in a voice like people would say _you’re being such a baby_. He slapped Leo’s shoulder, and the other boy shut his eyes. “Come onnnn, Leo, you can’t just stay in bed. Come with me to the vending machine. We’ll get coffee, maybe some breakfast.” Leo covered his mouth like he was going to throw up. “Okay, maybe not breakfast just yet.” 

 

David continued to prod Leo, and Leo continued to lay in bed. David gave up after about twenty minutes of annoying his roommate and got up to get him water instead. Leo drank the water, took the Advil David pressed into his palm, and passed out for the next twelve hours. 

 

He was disoriented when he awoke again. He immediately rolled over and dry heaved over the carpet. He felt something building in his stomach, and he made a panicked noise because as much as he didn’t want to throw up on the carpet in front of David, he knew it was coming, and when he knew it was coming, he _really_ knew. 

 

But then David was there and he passed Leo a plastic container and gave him a rude, horrified look the entire time Leo puked, but he didn’t leave the room and he didn’t move away. His hand remained on Leo’s back and he even brushed a strand of Leo’s hair away from his face when it began to get in the way. 

 

“This situation is revealing in many ways,” David muttered. “You might actually be sick and you _really_ need a haircut.” 

 

“Shut the--” He turned green, and David shoved the plastic container under his mouth. 

 

+ 

 

Cesc looked pale and sickly; Iker looked paler and sicker. They agreed to meet in the music room (Iker’s idea) because it was normally empty during lunch. 

 

When Iker arrived, Cesc was sitting at the piano, his fingers ghosting over the keys like he wanted to play but something was stopping him. Iker remembered him complaining earlier about not having enough money to pay for his own lessons. Iker remembered him talking for hours about music. He liked this band, something about monkeys, that Iker had never heard of. 

 

And then Cesc began to play, and it was like Iker had never seen him before. He was amazing, even better than Xabi, and Iker used to sit for hours listening to Xabi play, marveling at how someone could go so long without messing up once. But Xabi was structured and beautiful in an organized, trained way. Cesc played like he had this talent that he was just beginning to realize. He played without sheet music, without counting out the rhythm, simply by ear. 

 

He was playing some song he’d hummed for Iker awhile ago. He was muttering the lyrics under his breath. “It’s a little bit funny this feeling inside.” A pause, a little flick of his wrist, and the most devastatingly beautiful stream of delicate music erupted from the piano. “I’m not one of those who can easily hide / I don’t have much money but boy if I did...” 

 

He continued to play, but his voice faded. And, Iker thought he was always beautiful, but when his eyes lit up and he was behind the piano, he wasn’t _beautiful_. He wasn’t handsome or a pretty boy. He was a work of art, and Iker wanted to reach out to touch him to make sure he was flesh and blood, not stone and marble or a dream. 

 

His fingers moved across the keys, swiftly and smoothly like a dance, and he was bitting his lip like he was focused only on the song and mouthing the words was even distracting at that point. Iker approached him slowly and as quietly as possible, waiting for Cesc to notice him, but the younger boy just continued to play until he hit the wrong key and he made a pained noise at the back of his throat. 

 

Iker laughed quietly at the look on Cesc’s face. The smile that appeared was a mixture of a brief flicker of pain and the familiar overwhelming happiness that was Cesc’s gut reaction upon seeing Iker. 

 

“Hey,” he said quietly. He touched a key absentmindedly so he didn’t have to look at Iker for too long. 

 

Iker nodded. He pulled up a chair beside the piano bench. “I thought you said you didn’t play an instrument.” 

 

“Oh, I can’t,” Cesc said, brushing it off. “I was just messing around.” 

 

“Messing around?” Iker echoed in disbelief. “That was brilliant.” 

 

“That’s because it wasn’t mine, dumbass,” Cesc teased with an easy smile. He shut the piano lid, and turned himself fully around again. “Elton John, stupid.” 

 

“Yeah, I know that, Fabregas.” He always called him Fabregas when he wanted Cesc to shut up during practice. “I’m just saying you play by ear really well. It’s, uh, it’s pretty cool.” 

 

“You think something I do is pretty cool?” 

 

Iker blushed. “I think everything you do is pretty cool.” 

 

Cesc laughed under his breath, and he did that thing where his eyes crinkled because he was smiling so hard, and Iker felt like smiling too, but he just scratched at his chin instead. “That’s a blatant lie, Casillas.” 

 

Iker didn’t laugh. He walked slowly forward, grabbed Cesc’s tie, and pulled him to his feet. Cesc could feel Iker’s breath on his cheek, and he stared at Iker’s lips until Iker titled his chin up, and Cesc was forced to meet his eyes instead. 

 

“Are you calling me a liar?” Iker breathed. 

 

Cesc squirmed, more turned on by the whole thing than anything else. “No,” he answered softly. 

 

And then Iker dropped him, and a smile broke out, and he was doubled over laughing. “I’m only joking, Cesc. You should have seen your face.” 

 

“I don’t care if that was a joke,” Cesc said, and he was pouting and wishing it wasn’t. “It was really hot.” 

 

Iker straightened up and the smile faded, not completely, but he toned it down for Cesc’s sake. “Yeah?” He moved forward to straighten Cesc’s shirt and tie for him. “You think something I do is hot?” he asked, doing a pathetic imitation of Cesc from earlier, puppy dog eyes and all. 

 

“No,” Cesc shot back. “You’re ugly and I hate you.” 

 

Iker made a pleased sound. “I love it when you talk dirty.” 

 

+ 

 

CR7: iker i called you like 14 times 

paleplumpass: only 14? c’mon cris, that’s not even desperate 

paleplumpass: i’m starting to think you don’t even care about talking to me 

CR7: shut up where have you been 

paleplumpass: with cesc in the music room 

paleplumpass: alsdflaskdjglkajsdlfkasdgjasldkfj 

paleplumpass: aslkdfjlsdjgaoisjo94309hraksjflaksdfjalskdgasfksdf 

paleplumpass: asdkjflakjsdlfkj;lskdgjshdri43t9409asdlfasdjglkjqlkjlaksjdflkasjdlfksdglaksjdf

paleplumpass: that’s all 

CR7: jesus u slept with him? 

paleplumpass: NO 

paleplumpass: just iDK being with him in general is like that 

CR7: being with him is like a keyboard smash ? 

paleplumpass: yeah 

paleplumpass: and we’re hanging out again later 

CR7: i’m shocked 

CR7: please don’t turn into sergio 

CR7: he’s always with fernando and I’ll trigger the apocalypse if you do the same 

paleplumpass: I WOn’T 

paleplumpass: i have a hard time even being /nice/ to the people i care about 

paleplumpass: there is no way we’ll have a relationship like fernando and sergio 

CR7: sernando 

CR7: i call them sernando 

 

+ 

 

Ricky was sitting alone in his room by the time Cristiano got back from dinner. Sometimes they ate together and sometimes they didn’t, but either way it was okay with Ricky, and Cristiano didn’t even seem to notice (or care) whether he was there or not. That part stung a little, but he knew it was just the way Cristiano was. And then Ricky began to wonder if he was the sort of person to make excuses for a shitty boyfriend and if Cristiano was a shitty boyfriend and he really wanted to sit down and talk to him about it, but he was nervous and he didn’t want to seem like he needed reassurance. So he stayed quiet. 

 

Cristiano came in, sat down, and started working as soon as he walked in. “Hey,” he called after a good solid ten minutes of typing. “Did you have fun at the party?” 

 

Ricky hesitated, and then he realized that the foreign emotion he was dealing with was, in fact, anger. Cristiano hadn’t even spoken to him at the party, and it’s not like he was too drunk to notice Ricky. He couldn’t even use that as an excuse. He was sober and thinking and too emotionally damaged himself to think about the people in his life that mattered. 

 

So Ricky set down his computer (it’s not like he’d been getting any homework done anyway), and turned to Cristiano, said, “It was fun. Someone offered me sex. You know, the usual.” 

 

Cristiano laughed like it was a joke, didn’t even turn around. “Well, good, Ricky. I’m glad you’re turning into one of us.” 

 

“Cris, I’m serious.” He sat patiently at his desk, waiting for Cristiano to look up from his computer. 

 

Cristiano typed something else and, when he realized Ricky wasn’t kidding, he looked up with a disturbed expression. “Someone offered you sex and you didn’t tell me?” 

 

“I’m telling you now, aren’t I?” Ricky watched him calmly. 

 

“Yeah, now, after it happened,” Cristiano replied, sounding annoyed, “I would have gotten them to stop bothering you or something.” 

 

Ricky shrugged. “It was no bother. She was quite pretty.” She wasn’t actually that pretty, but Ricky was feeling bold and it was his way of scratching at the surface of the problem. 

 

“She,” Cristiano repeated, looking wounded. “ _She_.” He was scandalized. “I can’t believe you’re going all...straight on me.” 

 

“I’m not going straight on you. I’m still dating you.” He hesitated and started moving his hands around in the way that always made Cristiano smile. “I just meant that it would be nice if you noticed me at parties once in awhile. And not just at parties, at, like, lunches and shit too. I’m not saying we have to eat dinner together every single night because God only knows I see enough of you in this room. All I’m saying is that when I’m eating dinner with you, please don’t make me feel like I’m taking up space that should be taken up by one of your _much cooler_ friends.” 

 

“Much cooler?” Cristiano didn’t lose his composure. He did _not_ lose his composure. He shoved his laptop away from him. “After all this time, you honestly think it’s about what is and isn’t cool? You think I’m just that shallow person you thought you met at the beginning of the year? You think that I don’t value you? Because I am doing everything I can to show that I care about you. I’ve never done this for anyone before and I told you that I would hurt you, and I told you that I would fuck this up, but you’re the one who didn’t listen to me.” 

 

“Yeah,” Ricky said, nodding mockingly, “Because _I’m_ the one who doesn’t listen.” 

 

Cristiano let out a quick, bitter laugh like he couldn’t believe it. He dragged his laptop back towards him, shoved it in its thin black case, picked up his backpack, and headed for the door. “I’m not doing this. I’m not going to fucking fight with you over something like this.” 

 

“Yeah, just go off and feel sorry for yourself because you’re emotionally damaged and secretly insecure.” And it was the rudest, most heartless thing Ricky had ever said in his life, but he was sick of being nice all the time. He was sick of being innocent and being treated like some delicate flower. And he was sick of being used. 

 

Cristiano didn’t say anything. He just stood there for a moment, a flicker of hurt crossing his features before he turned on his heel and stormed out. The door slammed behind him. 

 

+ 

 

Cristiano stopped by Iker’s first.The door was open, and Cesc was sitting quietly on the floor with his headphones, doing math and counting on his fingers. Iker was at his desk staring at his english paper. The cursor was blinking, and Iker wasn’t moving. He was being very productive. 

 

“Hey,” he said to Iker. Cesc looked up, pulled out his headphones, and offered Cristiano a shy smile. He nodded back to Cesc. “Where’s Sergio?” 

 

“With Fernando. Sometimes he stays overnight.” Iker waggled his eyebrows. “Poor Juan. He has a curtain around his bed. And earplugs.” 

 

Cristiano tried to smile. 

 

Iker shut his computer. “Alright, what’s wrong.” Cesc kept his eyes on Iker. 

 

“Fight,” Cristiano answered with some effort. He sat down on Sergio’s bed, letting his backpack fall to the floor. “With Ricky. He thinks I’m a shit boyfriend. I think I’m a shit boyfriend. We all hate me. We’re all mad at me.” 

 

Iker grimaced. “You’re not a shit boyfriend. If anyone is shit with relationships and feelings, it’s me. Just ask Cesc.” 

 

Cesc nodded happily from the floor. “It’s truly incredible what a disaster he is.” His headphones were on the floor, still blasting music, and Cristiano recognized a song from Sergio’s locker room playlist. 

 

“Yeah.” Cristiano flopped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “How am I supposed to go back there tonight? He was really mad and I _defended_ myself. Like, fuck, I never defend myself because that shit is for people who care and I _don’t care_.” He sat up and bit his lip. “But I sort of do, you know?” 

 

Iker made a sympathetic expression because he was terrible at offering up advice. He squirmed uncomfortably. Cesc tapped his headphones impatiently, looking up at Iker for permission before interjecting, “You care because he’s your boyfriend and you’re supposed to care. That’s the whole point, that you _care_. Ricky knows you care, but he just needs some reassurance sometimes.” 

 

Cristiano stared back at Cesc stonily for a long time, and Iker was beginning to get nervous. Great, his best friend and his possible future boyfriend weren’t going to get along. They would probably hate each other. They would-- 

 

Cristiano smiled as much as he could. “This kid actually knows what he’s talking about,” he said, looking at Iker. 

 

“Kid,” Cesc muttered disdainfully under his breath. “ _Kid_.” 

 

Cristiano ignored him and rested his back against the wall. “Is it okay if I crash here tonight? Tell Sergio to stay with Fernando? I don’t want to go back tonight. Ricky will lash out and I’ll just make things worse.” 

 

Iker waved his hand. “Welcome to the jungle, my friend. Enjoy your stay.” 

 

+ 

As soon as the door shut behind Cesc, it opened again almost at once. Sergio stormed in, saw Cristiano on the bed, and dived onto it with him. They quickly filled him in, and he almost started jumping on the bed for joy because _sleepover_ (!). 

 

“There is no fucking way I’m leaving now,” Sergio said. He quickly undressed, putting on a little show for Cristiano. Iker rolled his eyes. “We haven’t all been together in the longest time, I swear, boys are tearing us apart. Ricky is feeling, understandably, like you don’t care about him. Cesc is fucking adorable, so Iker is distracted. And Fernando--” He cut off and pulled his shirt over his head. “Fernando is a fucking nightmare.” 

 

“Trouble in paradise?” Cristiano arched an eyebrow. 

 

“He’s all upset and jealous because of what happened at the party, and I told him that it doesn’t count because it’s a _party_.” Sergio made an expression like ‘that should be obvious’, and Cristiano nodded like he understood, but Iker rolled his eyes because party or not, you weren’t supposed to be an asshole. “...But he just threw something at me and yelled in my ear while I had a hangover. It was really rude. He’s a _nightmare_.” 

 

“You created this monster yourself,” Iker called from the closet. He dug out an extra pillow and tossed it to Cristiano. He always kept extra stuff in there just in case they ever had an extra guest which was actually pretty often seeing as his roommate was Sergio fucking Ramos. 

 

“What, by licking whipped cream off someone’s chest?” Sergio couldn’t understand what he had done wrong. “Come on, man, his _ass_ knows I belong to him.” He made a thrusting motion with his hips. 

 

“How romantic,” Cristiano sighed. He kicked Sergio’s arm. 

 

Sergio groaned, and he caught Cristiano’s leg between his hands and his chest. He pulled him down the bed, and Iker glared at the two of them until they were silent and still. “Why does he have to be jealous?” Sergio whined. 

 

“Why did oyu have to lick whipped cream off someone’s nipples?” Cristiano shot back, wrestling himself out of Sergio’s grip. Iker walked over and slapped at Sergio’s arm until he released Cristiano. 

 

“Well, I couldn’t just leave it there, could I?” Sergio kicked out at Iker, who promptly pulled Cristiano over to his bed to avoid any injuries. 

 

Iker almost choked when Sergio’s response registered. “Is that what you said to Fernando?” Iker pictured Fernando threatening Sergio with his fists or possibly a knife. 

 

“Obviously not,” Sergio scoffed. “I’m alive aren’t I?” 

 

“Good boy,” Iker agreed, nodding. 

 

“Yeah,” Cristiano cooed. “Only be a dick to me. Don’t be a dick to that virginal shit-warehouse.” 

 

Iker shoved his laptop at them. “No more talking about boys. Read over my essay.” 

 

“Iker, you have one sentence written.” 

 

“Exactly. Help me write the rest.” 

 

+ 

 

Steven and Xabi were playing in the snow for the first time since snow hit campus. It was freezing and their hands were cold from trying to build a snowman and their noses were cold from the biting breeze, but they didn’t want to go back inside because something about the lightly falling snow made it seem like time wasn’t passing at all. 

 

They played in the snow for a long time, moving around and shouting at each other, having a snowball fight and pretending to be soldiers in the zombie apocalypse, until they finally collapsed on the ground after Steven decided to tickle Xabi. 

 

“Low blow,” Xabi gasped. “My one weakness.” 

 

Steven ignored him and kissed him, and Xabi decided that cold kisses were the best kisses, but only because they reminded him of that stupid snowman that fell apart right away and the way Steven threw a snowball right at his face. Their noses touched, and Steven fell fully on top of Xabi. 

 

His hands were cold at the back of Xabi’s neck, so cold it almost hurt, but Xabi couldn’t bring himself to pry them away because the freezing cold reality of the moment was better than anything else. Anything and everything else felt like a dream. This was reality. This was the only reality. 

 

Xabi tried to talk about his future again, but he couldn’t get the words out, so they just laid in the snow. People walked by and wondered what they were doing, but it was StevieandXabi, so they didn’t have to really wonder for too long. 

 

Every time Xabi talked about his future, he felt like he’d forgotten how to speak or he was pronouncing all the words wrong because Steven wasn’t there. And suddenly, his future wasn’t his dream anymore. It was his nightmare, and Xabi loved. He just loved. 

 

He picked up his scarf and wrapped it around Steven’s neck, and for the first time, he gave in to the terrifying realization that he would never see Steven again after the year was finished. And so he would make the moments count and believe it was for the better. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also for fellow fanfiction writers, I'm going to create a challenge for you. Sometimes I'll do the challenge as well, but other times I won't because I can't commit to anything 
> 
> if any of you choose to do it, here you go, 
> 
> 1.) hurt/comfort featuring two rivals (must include singing, pleasure, and grief)   
> 2.) in which two friends take a road trip (must include gun, dirt, regret)   
> 3.) humor!fic in which two villains are boyfriends (must include stress, TV, shivering/sharing) 
> 
> I'll start with just 3, but the challenge is this: 3 fics, any length based on those prompts. You can write one or you can write all of them. I want to make it an unofficial contest sort of thing and I'm going to link you all to the winner in the next few chapters of whatever I post.


	19. Bloody Hearts and Shitty Poetry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea when snow starts melting or what melted snow looks like or anything like that, so sorry if all that is inaccurate. I live in california what can i say   
> it's 2:30 am good morning

They were barely two months into the second semester, and they were already starting to talk about graduation. Iker and Xabi were sitting in the senior class’s student council meeting, both visibly flipping the fuck out. Iker was checking his phone every few minutes, and Xabi, who was trying to run the meeting in his stead, was furiously sweating and scratching at a hickey on his neck instead of focusing on what he was reading. He said cock instead of cook three times. And since the junior class student council was sitting in on the meeting, he received _wonderful_ responses from Sergio and Cristiano. 

 

“...So that’s why Iker and I were thinking we could do the yacht thing for grad night.” He fumbled with his notecards. He swiped at his forehead. “You know, because we have all the extra money from the...” He completely forgot what he was talking about. “...stuff. The _stuff_.” He exhaled noisily. “Iker, anything to add?” 

 

Iker stared blankly back. He checked his phone again. “Yeah, no.” 

 

“Yeah or no?” Xabi looked like he was about to puke. 

 

“No, nothing.” Iker pushed his folder to the center of the table. “Meeting’s done. Or, whatever.” 

 

“Yeah,” Xabi agreed lamely. “We’ll finish this... later,” he finished, drifting off. 

 

Iker shoved his phone back into his backpack and started for his room without waiting up for anyone. Sergio was busy trying to avoid Fernando, and Cristiano completely refused to even mention Ricky. He was so against the idea of mentioning Ricky that if Iker even began a word that started with - _ri,_ he visibly flinched. 

 

Iker almost felt bad being happy around them because they were finally the ones having issues and his love life was finally the one working out. He and Cesc were growing closer and closer. They held hands (sometimes where people could see it), kissed (normally not where people could see it), and one time Cesc ended up on Iker’s bed with his pants unzipped after a heated makeout session. Iker had quickly climbed off, short of breath and blushing, and started rambling about some English paper he still had to finish. 

 

Cesc had pulled his pants up, flushed, hair a mess, lips swollen and bruised. He grinned at Iker, and Iker turned away, laughing so hard that his chest hurt by the end of it. 

 

“I can’t be around you, you know,” he laughed out. 

 

“I know.” And Cesc had smiled devilishly again. 

 

Iker smiled at the memory, and he had a little checklist at the back of his mind because they made out, they held hands, they talked every single day, they made plans to meet up after school, but not once had they talked about what their relationship was. And Iker thought it was better that way, he really did, but, in the back of his mind, he was counting down the days until Cesc would ask, “So what are we?” And Iker wouldn’t have an answer. 

 

He met Cesc at his locker like he’d promised. Cesc slowly took out his books, mindful not to drop a single one on his glass of chocolate milk at the foot of his locker. “How was the student council meeting?” 

 

Iker casually brushed Cesc’s shoulder with his hand in silent greeting. “Fine,” he managed. “Boring.” Cesc’s hair was messy, a little curly in places, and there was a scar on his cheek from when he’d accidentally ran into Sergio at practice. “You should do it next year.” 

 

Cesc made a face, and Iker knew better than to argue. He pulled out _A Tale of Two Cities_ and threw it at Iker. “Summarize chapter five for me?” 

 

“Cesc,” he began, “You’re supposed--” 

 

“I know, to finish my homework. _I know I know I know_. Just because I’m supposed to do something doesn’t mean I’m actually going to do it. And besides, last night I was a little busy dry humping you. Now please shut the fuck up and summarize chapter five.” 

 

Iker’s jaw fell open. He struggled to shut it. Cesc did the puppy-dog eyes. “I--okay.” 

 

+ 

 

Sergio had been trying to avoid Fernando the past few weeks. Ever since the party, Fernando had been miserable and annoying and Sergio felt bad, but he just didn’t want to have to explain to Fernando that he would never change. Sergio was Sergio, and Sergio was even more Sergio Ramos-y at parties. He didn’t want to have to face Fernando because Fernando was all pure and virginal (well, not technically speaking since Sergio did a pretty good job of devirginizing him), and Sergio was the exact opposite. He didn’t want to feel judged, and he _knew_ Fernando would do nothing but judge him. 

 

Even Cristiano had urged him to speak to Fernando, but Sergio was doing his best to keep their conversations short and sweet. It had been going on for weeks now, and Sergio was shocked to the very core that Fernando hadn’t dumped him yet. 

 

He cared about their relationship. He really, really cared and sometimes he thought about how much Fernando meant to him and he had to bite down on his hand to keep from calling him and apologizing and fixing things. But there was another part of him that was wounded that Fernando didn’t even want an explanation. He didn’t even want to hear that Sergio was sorry. 

 

Because Sergio was sorry, he was _really_ sorry, but he wasn’t going to change. 

 

He walked into German with a heavy heart because he knew that he’d put Fernando through a lot the past few weeks, and he didn’t really deserve Fernando anymore, if he had ever deserved him at all. He knew he was going to have to break up with Fernando sooner or later because he was just dragging out the inevitable and if Fernando refused to do it, Sergio would have to put him out of his misery. 

 

He found Fernando at his desk, messing with Sergio’s book. He looked up as Sergio sat down. “You left this in my room the other night. And you missed our tutoring, by the way. Not that you really care because you don’t seem to care about much anymore.” He did one of those half-smiles that was basically ‘fuck you, i’m sad and it’s your fault.’ 

 

Sergio shifted uncomfortably. His tie was crooked, and the top two buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned. He looked like a nervous wreck, and Fernando hoped he felt that way too. “Look, Nando, it’s not that I don’t care. It’s just that you want me to be a person I’m not.” 

 

Fernando almost choked. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? That’s not what I want at all. All I want is for you to not whore around behind my back. All I’m asking is that you warn me before you go and lick whipped cream off someone’s chest and maybe you could at least ask if I wanted to be that person? I mean, jesus fucking christ, Sergio.” 

 

“You want to be that person?” Sergio was smiling. 

 

“Sergio, that really wasn’t the most important part of what I said.” He sighed loudly, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “It would be nice if you could actually address the problem here.” 

 

“I thought you thought I was a whore.” 

 

“I do think you’re a whore.” 

 

Sergio frowned. “Fuck you.” 

 

“I never said it was a bad thing.” Fernando kicked his leg gently. “I’m not mad you fucked people before me, and I won’t be mad if you fuck people after me. I’m just asking you not to fuck other people while we’re together.” 

 

“I’m not arguing with you here.” Sergio sat down as the teacher entered the room. Another sub. Another sad day. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I don’t want to sleep with anyone but you.” 

 

“Then why are we aggressively agreeing?” 

 

“I don’t know,” Sergio whisper-shouted back. The sub glared at them. Sergio ignored him, and Fernando shot him an apologetic look, leaning over the German book between them and pretending to actually be doing work. “I thought you wanted me to be a different person.” 

 

“Well I have no fucking idea where you got that idea from. Maybe from the terrible silence-- started by you, might I add-- between us.” 

 

“I’m sorry,” Sergio groaned. “I was a dick, and you were jealous.” 

 

“I had every right to be jealous.” 

 

“I know. I’m just not used to it.” 

 

“What? Sergio Ramos not used to jealousy?” Fernando snickered. “Sorry, I don’t buy that. Gonna have to call bullshit on that one.” 

 

“No,” Sergio said, shaking his head. “I’m used to jealousy. I’m just not used to caring.” He looked down. “You know, about that person. About that jealousy. Normally my relationships are easy or easy to control, and you’re neither of those.” 

 

Fernando smiled a little triumphantly. “Good.” 

 

+ 

 

Iker was sitting in the library with Cristiano, and Cristiano was scribbling furiously on his paper, so loudly that Iker had to look up several times to shoot him a ‘shut the fuck up’ kind of expression. 

 

Finally, Iker banged his fist on the table. “If you don’t fucking quit that, I’m going to throw your pen out the window, and then I’m going to grab that huge dictionary over there and shove it so far up your ass that--” 

 

Cristiano looked up blankly. “What did I do?” 

 

Iker rubbed his eyes with his fists. “Nothing. Never mind.” He watched Cristiano return to his homework, pale and sad and a little bit lost looking. “Hey, man, you okay? You look sickly.” 

 

“I’m not sickly.” His eyes looked hollow and worn, and Iker hadn’t seen them light up for anything other than football since his fight with Ricky. “At least not in the physical sense.” He shut his book, and put his bag on the table, setting his head down like he was going to take a nap. 

 

“Can you at least talk to me about it?” Iker asked carefully. He really did not want to experience a Cristiano blow-up. He’d never really experienced a true Cristiano blow-up, but he knew Sergio had and from what he had heard, it was more terrifying than seeing Wayne Rooney’s bare ass. 

 

“There’s not much to say.” Cristiano’s jaw tensed up. “After I went back to my room after our sleepover thing, he and I talked. He said he wanted space or whatever, and I said ‘yeah, or whatever.’ to, you know, imply that I didn’t want more space... if that makes sense?” 

 

He checked to make sure Iker understood. He nodded and motioned for Cristiano to go on. 

 

Cristiano sighed, said, “And then, I don’t know, we just stopped talking, and Sergio sort of did the same with Fernando, but he said they talked in German class, and everything is working out with you and Cesc. Even fucking Leo has David flirting with him. And then.” He threw his pen down again and sat back against his chair. “Ricky won’t even look at me. I was an asshole, and I didn’t fix things fast enough.” 

 

“So make it up to him.” Iker opened his school-issued planner. He shoved it towards Cristiano. “Saturday, my sweet summer child, is Valentine’s Day.” 

 

+ 

And suddenly the dreaded hour was upon them: Valentine’s Day. 

 

It all started with David dancing on Leo’s bed to wake him up in the morning. “Yoooo, wake up, little munchkin, it’s my least favorite day of the year, and I love being miserable, so it sort of ends up being my favorite. I fucking love complaining. I love those goddamn couples with their goddamn flowers and their goddamn chocolate. I love watching the saliva exchange. The burning anger I feel really completes me, you know?” 

 

“David,” Leo said, his voice muffled, “You’re standing on my face.” 

 

David stepped away and pulled down the covers. “Oh,” he said, surprised, “You’re right.” 

 

Leo rubbed his cheek angrily. “I know I’m right. I’m not wrong about you stepping on my face. If I say you’re stepping on my fucking face, you’re stepping on my fucking face.” He swatted at David who quickly jumped away with a grin. “Asshole,” Leo added for good measure. 

 

“Yeah, whatever, you love me.” David pulled on a different shirt and quickly got rid of his pants. He danced around in his boxers for a full minute, yelling something about bouncing junk before he pulled on a fresh pair of pants. 

 

He turned to Leo again. “Alright, so what are we doing today?” 

 

Leo raised an eyebrow. “Honestly? You want to spend your Valentine’s Day with me?” 

 

David shrugged. His cheeks almost seemed to redden. “I can’t think of anything better, so.” 

 

“Yeah, alright, I guess.” 

 

“Oh, _you guess_. Did you have anything else planned, Princess?” David’s eyes flashed mockingly (beautifully to Leo), and he smirked. 

 

“Yeah,” Leo said, completely serious. “I was thinking of going out with my boyfriend. Or, you know, just staying in.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. 

 

“Boyfriend?” David’s voice seemed to crumble and fade at the end of the word like it was something poisonous. “You have a boyfriend?” Leo stared back at him blankly. David looked down. He nodded. “Oh, yeah, cool. That’s cool.” 

 

Leo snorted. “No, I don’t fucking have a boyfriend. Jesus. I hardly have two friends in total and you think I can land myself a guy? You idiotic douchebag.” 

 

David rolled his eyes frustratedly and walked into the bathroom to brush his teeth, but Leo thought he saw a huge fucking smile as he walked away. 

 

...

 

Cesc walked into Iker’s room to find him pacing the room nervously. There was some new shit on the nightstand that Iker had covered with a few crumpled up tissues and his briefs. He turned quickly when Cesc came in, putting his back to the nightstand like he was trying to hide it. 

 

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Cesc said cheerfully. Iker didn’t smile. “You piece of shit,” Cesc added just in case. 

 

“Much better,” Iker replied, and he tried to smile, but he still looked so nervous Cesc thought he was going to puke. “Uh. Look. I.” He stopped and shook his head. He kept his back to the nightstand. “I had this dumb fucking idea, but forget it. Let’s just go out and get lunch or something.” 

 

Cesc walked forward and poked him in the chest. He glared, but it was a Cesc glare, so it was still sweet and cute and adorable, and Iker just grabbed his hand and pulled him closer. “Tell me,” Cesc insisted as Iker kissed his forehead gently. “Tell me now, Iker, before I start whining.” 

 

Iker groaned into his neck. “Fine, fine. I just. Okay, it’s totally fine if you don’t want it because I am not trying to pressure you or anything because I would never do that, like trust me, I would never do that. Because I like, really care about you, and I wanted to make this special, and you’re such, like, a good fucking person, and I really care about you, and god, my hands are sweating. I can’t even speak properly. I feel like my tongue is sweating. Is my tongue sweating? Jesus. This is harder than I thought it--” 

 

“Are you finally going to fuck me?” Cesc cut in. He blinked at Iker innocently, his brown eyes perfectly calm, a thin glimmer of eagerness the only other emotion present. 

 

Iker swallowed. “That was the idea, yes.” 

 

“Fucking finally.” Cesc pulled off his shirt, unbuckled his belt, and unceremoniously dumped himself on the bed. “Alright, have at it.” 

 

Iker laughed quietly under his breath, but he didn’t start right away. He sat next to Cesc, pulled him up to a sitting position, and smacked his arm until Cesc stopped trying to grab a condom from the nightstand. 

 

Iker frowned. “You little shit, stop it. I have to tell you something first.” 

 

Cesc sighed loudly, but he stopped trying to reach over Iker. “You don’t have to give me the sex talk, seriously. I’m not going to get pregnant. I know we have to use a condom. I’m not going to chew on your dick or anything. I know how this shit works.” 

 

“Oh my god,” Iker muttered, rubbing at the nape of his neck. “That is not what I was going to tell you, dumbass, and if you would shut up for five seconds, I’d be able to say that I want this to be special or whatever, and I know it sounds dumb, but that’s how I feel about you. I feel like an idiot around you all the time, and I feel like we can be idiots together, and I don’t know, I’m rambling again. I like you. I like you a lot.” 

 

Cesc laughed and he stretched himself out on the bed again. “I love you too, Iker.” 

 

Iker fingered the other boy’s undone belt buckle. “Yeah, that’s more like it.” 

 

... 

 

When Ricky returned from lunch (alone, cheeseburger and fires, reading _To Kill a Mockingbird_ for the seventh time), Cristiano was waiting in their room. He was standing in the middle of the room with his eyes wide and his limbs stiff. 

 

Ricky opened the door and shouted. “Holy shit, Cris, you scared the crap out of me.” He let out a loud sigh and shut the door behind him, still looking at Cristiano like he was about to attack him or something. “Uh, you okay?” 

 

“What’s up with this holiday and all the bloody hearts?” he blurted out instead, starting to panic. He and Iker decided on what he was going to say, but shit, he was freaking out. “Like, I know they’re meant to be red hearts, but everyone hangs them up and they look like hearts covered in blood, and that is really unappealing to me, especially since I think this holiday is a giant pile of dog manure anyway.” 

 

“Oh,” Ricky said quietly. He sat down at his desk. He watched Cristiano. 

 

“I got a Valentine’s card from my Mom,” Cristiano blurted out again, worried that the room was going to descend into silence again. He’d been living in silence for the past few weeks and enough was enough. “It was nice. She put pink hearts instead of red because she knows I have a problem with stringing up bloody things on a holiday.” 

 

“Oh,” Ricky said again. 

 

Cristiano swore under his breath, so intensely and vulgarly that Ricky’s eyes widened and he turned pink. 

 

“Oh,” he said for the third time. 

 

“Alright, fine, jesus fucking christ, I hate this holiday and I hate giving in to it, but _here_.” He picked up a red piece of paper and shoved it at Ricky. “I made this for you. Or whatever.” 

 

The corners of Ricky’s lips tilted upward, and he reached forward for the card. Their hands connected as Cristiano handed it to him, and Ricky was suddenly hit with the weight of what Cristiano was doing. He swallowed past a lump in his throat. 

 

“Oh,” he just said again because he knew it was starting to annoy Cristiano. 

 

_Ricky,_

_Roses are red_

_violets are blue_

_everything is shit_

_everything but you_

 

_You get me through all the bad stuff, and it’s not something I can say in words because that’s not me, but yeah. I care about you more than you know. Happy Valentine’s Day._

 

  *  _Cristiano_



 

_P.S. I’m sorry._

 

_P.P.S. I’m even more sorry for the shitty poem_

 

Ricky looked at him. He just looked at him, and Cristiano knew everything was forgiven. He walked forward, and Ricky stood up, and for the first time in a long time, they didn’t kiss or anything like that. Ricky just hugged him and they stood in the center of the room for a long time, not moving and not speaking, because Ricky had a theory sometimes more could be communicated with a simple touch than with a thousand words. 

 

... 

 

Sergio and Fernando went for a long walk after lunch and Sergio promised a lot of things. Fernando knew he didn’t really mean any of them, about not drinking and never hosting a party again and never eating/drinking food or drink off someone’s body, but it was a nice gesture, and he told Sergio he didn’t really want his promises anyway. 

 

“I’m good with you being you even if you are fucking insane.” Fernando tightened the scarf around his neck, and Sergio messed with the one of the loose strings hanging down. He kept wrapping his finger until part of it turned white and then purple, and then releasing it just when Fernando was getting concerned. 

 

“Yeah?” Sergio was smiling, and Fernando really liked his smile because it lit up the room in a non-cliche way. It just made everything feel like it was going to be okay. 

 

“Yeah. I guess you’re _alright._ ” 

 

“You’re way more of a dick than people give you credit for. I hope you know that.” Sergio was smiling again, and Fernando loved it more each time he saw it, but he smacked Sergio in the arm instead of saying that. 

 

Fernando cooed mockingly. “Awww, Sergio. No one has ever complimented me like that before. Shucks, you’re adorable.” 

 

“Even if you just used shucks ironically, I’m worried about you. I feel like I should get all that melting snow over there and shove it down your shirt.” Sergio started for the brown-ish white pile at the base of a tree. 

 

Fernando disengaged himself from Sergio, ran up the block a little, turning to call behind him, “Last one to the dorm is going to have one hell of a sore throat in the morning.” 

 

They ran like hell. Fernando lost. 

 

... 

 

David and Leo were walking back to their room, and then David turned to Leo and said, “So do you have a valentine today?” 

 

“A Valentine? What, you mean like a special person?” Leo smiled gently. “No, not exactly.” 

 

“Yeah,” David said. He kicked at some melting snow on the ground. “Yeah,” he repeated. 

 

“And you?” Leo grabbed his arm and they started walking again, and their hands connected, almost by accident, but they kept them there, and walking around in the gross sludge on the grossest day of the year with his hand in David’s was the coolest thing Leo had ever done. 

 

“Not unless you want to be mine,” David joked, but his voice crumbled and broke at the end again, just like it had in their room before they left. 

 

“What if I do?” Leo shot back, and it was almost aggressively flirtatious. 

 

“Well.” David shifted from foot to foot. “Well, if you really want to be, I guess you could be. I mean, I guess I wouldn’t completely hate that. Just if you wanted to.” 

 

“I do,” Leo said, and he stared at David, but David seemed reluctant to make direct eye contact with the other boy. “I want to be your Valentine.” He lost his nerve at the last second. He brushed his hair out of his face even though it was nowhere near bothering him. “I mean, just because I don’t have anyone else.” 

 

“Right.” David smiled gently. “I know that.” He paused, and they were in front of the school gates. He squeezed Leo’s hand. “My Valentine,” he said mockingly. “More like my bitch. Let’s go break into the vending machine.” 

 

... 

 

Xabi ended up taking Steven out to a really nice restaurant, and it made Steven uncomfortable because he hated expensive places. It was the sort of place his parents would take him to, and he hated that because he hated them. Xabi had a decent relationship with his parents and a decent relationship with that dignified, gentlemanly type lifestyle. Steven thought it was the Second Coming of the bubonic plague. 

 

“Which fucking fork do I even use?” Steven held them both up and started prancing them around the table like little fork people. “This one is Xabi, and this one is Steven. Xabi and Steven start out not really liking each other.” Fork!Steven took a swipe at fork!Xabi. “But then Xabi helps Steven with homework, and Steven realizes he’s not so bad after all.” The fork!people embraced in a forkly manner. “They started playing football together, and it was the best thing Steven had ever been part of.” 

 

“Which one is me again?” Xabi cut in. 

 

“Sh,” Steven answered, but he shook the fork in his right hand. “Once they become friends, Steven falls madly in love with Xabi, but he thinks Xabi doesn’t see him that way.” Fork!Steven falls to the table, dejected and alone. “But one day, Steven tells Xabi how he feels, and he realizes Xabi feels the same way.” Fork!Steven and fork!Xabi kiss and roll around on the tablecloth just like the first time human!couple had kissed. 

 

Xabi laughed under his breath. He picked at their appetizer. “Yeah, then what?” 

 

Steven picked up the fork!couple. They stood facing each other. “They lived happily ever after,” Steven answered finally. “And they had a fork family in a nice fork neighborhood and they played fork football all day. The end.” 

 

“The end,” Xabi agreed quietly.   



	20. Another One Bites the Dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Scared?” David echoed in disbelief. “Fuck you, I’m not scared of admitting anything. I just don’t want to admit it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> VERY IMPORTANT: http://ancelotitties.tumblr.com/post/52675469246   
> that's the scene I'm referring to. Just take a look at that gif set before you read so you understand what's going on when you get to it.

It didn’t take long for Cristiano and Sergio to find out about Cesc and Iker finally “sealing the deal with lube and tears,” as Cristiano so eloquently put it. They bothered Iker about it for awhile, poking him during lunch and asking if he’d cried afterwards (NO, just misty eyes, shut the fuck up), how big Cesc was (ew, pervs, go fuck yourself. Actually go fuck each other), and if they cuddled afterward (he’s so fucking cute, _how could I not_?). 

 

But after a few weeks, they accepted the relationship and started talking to Cesc more. They settled down, and so did Iker and Cesc. Not a word was spoken about the heinous term “boyfriend” though Iker thought about it often. 

 

It was something he could be honored to call Cesc, but Steven and Xabi’s hurried (yet worryingly chaste) love affair was a perfect example of what Iker wanted to avoid. He wouldn’t break Cesc’s heart all over again, not any more than necessary anyway. Adding “boyfriend” to the mix seemed like a recipe for disaster, like Iker was telling Cesc he would be there only to run off a few months later. 

 

So they didn’t say anything and, though Cesc wondered, he wasn’t too bothered about it, at least not when he was with Iker. When he was alone and thinking, the doubts crept in, but he managed to quickly crush them with a thought of Iker. It was incredible how quickly a valid doubt could be crushed with a fantasy. 

 

Iker went running on days they didn’t have practice sometimes. Cristiano and Sergio always took the other, longer route, so Iker was alone, and ever since Cesc heard about that student being mugged, he’d started running with Iker. 

 

“You don’t have to come,” Iker groaned, but Cesc tried his hardest to run faster, make his strides longer, and keep up because nobody puts baby in a corner. 

 

Iker was normally quiet during his jogs, and Cesc just listened to the sound of their breathing. Iker used to bring his iPod, but then Cesc started coming along, and he didn’t care about listening to another song about humping a table or some shit, no matter how easy it made it to keep a steady rhythm going. 

 

One day in mid-March, he turned to Cesc, said, “Early decision letters come today.” He slowed to a walk to catch his breath, and Cesc almost fell over trying to stop fast enough. 

 

“Early decision?” he panted out. “What, like college shit?” 

 

Iker nodded, handed his water bottle over to Cesc who vigorously wiped it off before swallowing a mouthful. “Yeah, college shit. I applied early decision to Yale.” He kept his hands stiffly at his sides, and they walked on. He kicked at a rock. “If I get in, it’s binding.” 

 

“So you have to go there?” 

 

“Yeah, pretty much.” 

 

Cesc was quiet for a second, then, “Think you got in?” 

 

“I don’t know.” There was a flicker of panic, and Cesc felt like reaching over to grab his hand to reassure him, but he didn’t. He would have. It’s not like he was afraid or something; it just wasn’t something they did. “If not, I don’t know what I’ll do.” 

 

Cesc bit his lip, and he watched Iker thoughtfully. He started to jog again, and the younger boy followed suit, already breathing hard after seconds of jogging. “You’ll get in,” Cesc exhaled noisily. “I know you will.” 

 

Iker shrugged and he kept running until his vision was blurry and his lungs felt like they would cave in. “I don’t want to think about college,” he panted when they reached the dorms. “I just.” He leaned against the stone building and shut his eyes. “Fuck the future.” 

 

+ 

 

Xabi was waiting anxiously at his computer by the time school ended. Iker had gone out for a run to blow off some steam. Sergio and Cristiano were messing around outside because they didn’t have to worry about whether they had gotten into a school or not. Xabi envied how carefree they were. Even though juniors were supposed to be the stressed out ones, not seniors, Xabi felt like he was balding, and the two of them just went on smirking. 

 

He slapped at his mouse to wake up his computer, moving slowly and then all-at-once jerkily because his future was written inside his computer. A yes or a no could make or break him. Or so he’d been told. 

 

When he told his dad he was applying early decision to Stanford, he thought his dad was going to grab a pan and whack it over his own head. Stanford was fucking amazing, everyone knew that, but Xabi’s dad went to Princeton and everyone knew that the Alonso family and Princeton were connected like peanut butter and jelly, Sergio and stupidity, Villa and masturbating. The two were inseparable, and Xabi knew that no matter how hard he worked at Stanford, his father would always be a little disappointed. 

 

Sometimes Xabi thought that’s what attracted him to the school in the first place. It would be the first time Xabi wasn’t the perfect child, and he thought he might enjoy that feeling of taking control of his own life. Besides, he wanted to live across the country. The East Coast was cold. He liked Philadelphia, but he wanted to branch out and explore, make a name for himself and not always hear people asking how his father was. 

 

The screen went black as Xabi sunk deeper in his thoughts. Finally, he sighed, long and hard, and shook his head. He was going to have to look at some time. The truth was written there whether he wanted to see it or not. 

 

He went to the website, entered his username and password. The truth was there. The truth was there. The truth was there no matter what. He clicked. 

 

And just then, the door opened and Steven was standing there, his laptop in his hands, beaming wildly, face red. “Oh my god, Xabi, oh my god. I applied early decision to Drexel, and they waitlisted me! I didn’t even think they would consider me! Oh my god, Xabi, oh my fucking god. I’m so excit--” He stopped, and the door banged against the wall. “Oh, right, sorry, did you get into yours?” 

 

Xabi didn’t check over his shoulder. There was a lump in his throat, and his arm was getting itchy, and he felt like he was having a panic attack. He cleared his throat. “Drexel? Like the one here in Philadelphia?” 

 

Steven nodded. “Yeah, and I know waitlisted, like, that’s not great or ideal or whatever, but I didn’t even think I’d get this far!” He moved closer to Xabi, and Xabi felt his anxiety-ridden bones screaming out for contact. “And you? Did you get in, Xabi?” 

 

Xabi finally broke down, put his head in his hands, shaking his head. “I don’t know,” he moaned. “You walked in right as I was about to check, and now I can’t look, and fuck. Fuck. I can’t look. If I don’t get in--” 

 

Steven gently pushed Xabi aside, stared at the screen for a moment, blinking rapidly. “Oh, Xabi,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.” 

 

Xabi was still, silent, speechless. He felt like he would never be able to move again. 

 

And then Steven cackled crazily, a great big smile appearing on his face. “ACCEPTED, YOU ASSHOLE. THEY ACCEPTED YOU.” 

 

+ 

 

Leo walked in, glancing cheerfully behind him because Steven and Xabi were celebrating by jumping around Xabi’s room and hugging and, finally, falling on the bed and kissing. Leo sort of wished he had that with David, but he didn’t envy the whole “we shall never meet again” pact they had going. It was common knowledge, although Leo wasn’t really sure how. He did sort of get that if Xabi was whispering something to Iker in the library, people were definitely going to be eavesdropping. 

 

David was working quietly at his desk, and it struck Leo, for the first time, that although David threw those parties with Sergio and had this insane amount of confidence and all that bottled up angry sassiness that seemed to attract the “cool” people, Leo had never seen David with an actual friend, someone he shared shit with and did homework with regularly or, like, got coffee with. And it sort of made Leo sad that David could be surrounded by people one minute, and then when turned back into a normal person instead of the swaggering, drunk idiot he pretended to be, they disappeared. 

 

“Hey,” Leo said casually. He walked to his bed and sat down, throwing his shoes into his closet. “So I heard Xabi got into Stanford.” 

 

“Good for Xabi.” 

 

“Oh, come on, don’t say it like that. He might be friends with douchebags, but he’s not so bad.” 

 

David shrugged. “I like him well enough. I just don’t have the time or energy to invest in other people’s happiness.” 

 

Leo didn’t think that was true at all, especially since David made him happy so often, but he didn’t comment. “What about your own happiness?” 

 

“That,” David said, smirking, “Is something I do have the time and energy to invest in.” 

 

“No,” Leo groaned, “I know that. I meant, did you get in? Didn’t you apply early decision?” 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

Leo waited. “And?” he asked impatiently when it looked like David wasn’t going to say anything else. 

 

“Yeah,” he said casually. 

 

“Yeah, what?” 

 

“Yes, I got in,” David snapped. He looked up, and Leo had shrunk back against the wall, not frightened or shocked, just upset and amazed that David was so like destruction itself. The older boy’s expression softened when he saw Leo, and then, much softer, “I got in.” 

 

“Well.” Leo paused, and stared at David because he was still wearing his uniform, tie lying on the bed, shirt open and loose, shoes tossed lazily in front of the closet. His hair was spiky and messy, one of his hands bandaged up. There was a cut on his lip, and Leo would have asked if he had gotten into a fight if he hadn’t seen David walk right into someone else’s locker, bitch about how his lip hurt like a motherfucker, and then turn right around to punch the locker with his already burned hand (he can’t fucking make macaroni and cheese by setting a fire on his bio book, jesus fucking christ). “Congratulations,” Leo said finally. 

 

“Yeah, thanks,” David replied dismissively. “It’s not really like the prospect of the rest of my life excites me, but getting away from my parents does, so.” He looked up, gave Leo a tight smile. “I guess I’m excited about that.” 

 

“I think I’ll miss you,” Leo said after a long stretch of silence, after David had turned back to his computer screen. Leo’s voice was irritated, stretched thin; it was how everyone sounded after dealing with David Villa. 

 

And David liked that. He liked that Leo sounded pissed off while he was admitting he would miss David. 

 

He looked at Leo for a long time before he picked at his nails. He shut his laptop, shaking his head and tightening his jaw like there was something he was struggling to contain. Finally, he exhaled, all in one noisy breath, “God, I’ll miss you too, alright? I don’t even really care about some school in San Francisco.” 

 

“Then why are you going?” Leo asked frustratedly, kicking the covers away from himself. 

 

“I applied early decision,” David moaned like he’d already been through trying to explain it to people. “It’s binding. I got in.” He laughed suddenly, and it was more like a bark. “I’m bound.” The strange, twisted smile faded into something more serious. His lips were limp and fragile, extending across his face in a straight, trembling line. “I get to start over,” he said, quietly this time. “You can’t imagine how appealing that is to me.” 

 

“No, I get it. Trust me, I do.” Leo clasped his hands in his lap, and his hair was starting to get in his face again, but he didn’t want to break his staring contest with David and movement felt like weakness. “But you have to move.” And Leo looked down, because there was a time and place for weakness, and that was it. “You’ll be far away, and--” 

 

“And what?” 

 

“I won’t have an excuse to see you anymore.” Leo looked up, and he felt brave because he could look David in the eye. He gave nothing away with his words, but if David were smarter, he would have seen everything in Leo’s look. 

 

“Who says you need an excuse?” David countered. 

 

“Ha,” Leo said weakly. “I can’t just randomly show up in San Francisco to see you.” 

 

“And why not?” 

 

“Well you wouldn’t like it.” Leo looked a little helpless. 

 

David glared at Leo, fiercely and horribly like he was about to say something really nice. “I’d like that a lot, you shithead.” 

 

Leo’s lips curved slightly. Something grew in his eyes: amusement, triumph, happiness. “And why’s that?” 

 

David clawed at his blazer just long enough to roughly remove it from himself, throwing it down on his bed. “Because I fucking like you, alright? That’s why.” 

 

Leo laughed, but he felt like his heart rate was somehow inexplicably tied to the speed of light. “I know you do,” he said finally, after the look had faded from David’s eyes and he’d gone back to staring at nothing. And then again, “I know you do, David.” 

 

“You know nothing,” David snorted, putting on a terrible accent to mimic Ygritte on Game of Thrones. 

 

“I know some things,” Leo replied with a grin, quoting that one scene that had him gripping the couch cushion. 

 

David looked away because he knew what wasn’t coming. 

 

(“ _I know I love you. I know you love me. I have to go home now_.”) 

 

“Yeah, but sometimes I don’t think you understand the most important thing.” 

 

“Yeah?” Leo goaded. David stared stonily back. “And what’s that?” 

 

“That I care more than you understand.” He swallowed, appeared smaller, and seemed to shrink back into himself with every word. “I feel much more than I can say. I have to leave behind certain things that shouldn’t ever be left.” 

 

Leo rolled his eyes, but he felt stiff and nervous and it was ridiculous because he knew David didn’t feel that way about him, but from the way he was talking... if Leo were stupid, he might have mistaken it for David admitting his feelings. In a riddled, weird way, but still. 

 

“Why the fuck are you so cryptic?” 

 

“Why the fuck do you think?” 

 

Leo shrugged, glared back. “Because you’re too scared to ever actually admit you’re feeling a certain way.” 

 

“Scared?” David echoed in disbelief. “Fuck you, I’m not scared of admitting anything. I just don’t _want_ to admit it.” 

 

Leo stood up, and he did his best to channel Cristiano’s arrogance with his next smirk. “I don’t believe you,” he said confrontationally. “People say what they feel because they’re brave or reckless or just plain stupid, but at least those people aren’t whimpering in the corner, hiding behind some act because they’re too afraid to admit they have some feeling under all that--” He cut off as David stood up too, walked right up to Leo so that their faces were inches apart. Leo took the opportunity to smack David in the chest, pushing him backwards. 

 

David looked taken aback, eyes wide and mouth falling half open, but he recovered quickly. He steadied himself, stared at Leo, pushed back, almost gently, tugging on Leo’s sleeve almost as if to beg him to stop, but that only enraged Leo even further. 

 

“Just fucking say something once in awhile,” Leo shouted, and he shoved David again. “Instead of all these glances and teasing comments and buying me shit from the vending machine. Just fucking say something.” 

 

“Why don’t you say something?” David bellowed back, and someone slammed a door outside their room, yelling about how impossible it was to get any damn peace and quiet. “Why is everything up to me? You act like you’re such a fucking nice guy, but you’re blaming me for not making a move when you easily could have done the same.” 

 

“Because you can hurt me,” Leo exploded. “Because you’re vicious and when you say something, it digs deep. Worst case scenario for you, if I don’t feel the same way, is that you just move on with you life with one moment of mild embarrassment because you read the situation wrong. Worst case scenario for me is that everyone finds out, I become even more of a loser than I already am, I get your verbal abuse afterwards--” 

 

“Verbal abuse? I don’t verbally abuse you. Fuck off. You’re mental.” 

 

“Fine,” Leo yelled, and he picked something up and threw it in David’s direction. He didn’t even know what it was, just that it wasn’t expensive and it was probably David’s anyway, so good riddance. “Fine, David, I am _mental_ , but at least I’m fucking saying something.” 

 

“What do you want me to say?” David roared. “That I’ve been in love with you since the moment you walked in here? That I’ve always known you were just the one for me? That I’m sorry to be leaving for San Francisco because of _you?_ Is that what you want?” 

 

“No, I--” 

 

But David wouldn’t hear it. “Because that’s not the truth, Leo.” He was still yelling, but something about the noise around them seemed to quiet, seemed to still. Even the air around Leo felt silent, suspended, frozen as David continued, “The truth is that it came over me slowly and pathetically, and I can’t fucking look at you now without hating myself for starting out so blind.” He hesitated, seemed to glare back at Leo, wearily rather than angrily. “Is that what you want to hear?” He stood there, breathing hard for a moment, and then, softly, “Because lately that’s all I can think about.” 

 

Leo stared at him, speechless and unresponsive, eyes glazed over because it was like a dream. He didn’t speak for a long time, and David knew then how he felt, knew that he felt the same way because he nodded, a sad smile playing at his lips. 

 

“Look, let’s just forget this happened, okay?” He backed away, gave Leo some space because he still looked like he couldn’t fucking believe his ears. “I’m leaving in a few months and we’re too good as friends to risk this. Let’s just stay friends, forget this happened, and you can still visit me in San Francisco without having to worry about this relationship garbage.” 

 

Leo nodded, still silent and shocked, but some of the light left his eyes. “Yeah,” he answered quietly. “Yeah, friends.” 

 

+ 

 

Cristiano and Ricky started talking more often instead of just communicating with the silences and words unspoken. As lovely as that sort of relationship could be, words were necessary. Actions were necessary. Cristiano writing that dumbass valentine was necessary because Ricky needed to know, and Cristiano needed to know he still had that strength in him. 

 

Ricky came to his games, every single one of them, and he didn’t cheer very loudly because he thought the cheering squad was very undignified and he was nothing if not dignified, but he waved that stupid mini school banner with Cristiano’s number on it, and he hung it up in their room afterwards because he was proud. 

 

“I’m going to miss this a lot next year,” he said one night, and it was nearing the end of March. He was grasping Cristiano’s hand, and he felt like the night would stretch on forever, only it wouldn’t, and that was his concern. 

 

“What? This or me?” 

 

“Can’t it be both?” 

 

“No,” Cristiano said, smirking, and he tightened his grip on Ricky’s hand. “You can only miss me. You must constantly reassure me that you love and need me,” he said mockingly. “I need it to survive. Need your touch, baby, or I’m dying inside.” He pretended to do a little suggestive dance. 

 

“Shut up,” Ricky growled. “Maybe don’t abandon me at parties anymore and I would reassure you.” 

 

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Cristiano laughed, and he moved back towards Ricky to peck kisses down his neck, muttering something about “dying inside.” 

 

+ 

 

Sergio and Fernando liked to sit and talk sometimes about the whirlwind going on around them because it seemed like they were in a perfect shell. It seemed weird to them, that next year they would be the ones separating and figuring out what their futures would be together-- or apart. It was weird because they wouldn’t be together in the future. There would come a day when they would split up and it’s not like they ever really had the insurance that they would be together always, but it just felt good to think about a long stretch of uninterrupted forever. They couldn’t think of it like that anymore. 

 

Iker got into Yale, and Cesc was happy for him, but Sergio and Fernando watched, nudged elbows carefully as Iker shared the news and Cesc looked away, trying so hard not to be selfish, and Sergio wondered who he would be next year. He wondered if he would be the one getting left behind or the one doing the leaving behind, and he couldn’t decide which he would rather be. He’d always been the one doing the leaving, in the past with other relationships, because he’d always hated the idea that someone would have enough power over him to leave him and leave him all torn up inside, but Sergio thought that if anyone should have that power over him, he would want it to be Fernando. 

 

Ricky didn’t apply early decision anywhere because his parents wouldn’t let him and even though he had his small rebellions, they still had control over him. And even though he was growing into his own person, separate from them and separate from their faith, they still wanted to keep him close and they would probably succeed. Cristiano could see that coming from a mile away, and Sergio knew he could see it coming. They talked about it sometimes. Sometimes Fernando was there and other times it was just Sergio and Cristiano, talking like old times. Only now they were talking about the future and their boyfriends and their future with their boyfriends, and it was weird and everything was changing, and Sergio no longer believed in uninterrupted forevers. 

 

He watched his friends fall apart, sometimes on a daily basis, sometimes because of a test or a failed homework assignment and sometimes because of the death of a family member or the loss of something so precious it felt like a part of them, and each time they lost something, Sergio felt himself lose something too. He was part of them and they were part of him, and graduation was tearing that apart. And it sucked because he could never tell them how much they meant to him because it wasn’t the sort of thing people said aloud, and Sergio wasn’t about to be the first person to start saying that shit out loud because it made him uncomfortable to even think it, but it was the truth. 

 

They had a few more months, but the end was coming. Sergio always made it sound a little bit like the apocalypse in his mind, and then he thought, _huh that’s fitting_.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1.) it's 7:30 am and I have taken exactly two naps since last, each lasting exactly 20 minutes. I have been up doing bio summer homework as well as writing this chp. If there are typos or something just doesn't make sense, pat my head, boop my nose, and forgive me.   
> 2.) I realize the timeline with colleges doesn't make sense and I honestly could not care less   
> 3.) the title refers to leo/david and also I borrowed the title obviously


	21. The Winner Takes It All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They play football or whatever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ATTENTION: I have not edited this AT ALL and I'm running on like 3 hours of sleep so please comment with mistakes and/or weirdly worded sentences so I can change them before I embarrass myself in front of too many people   
> thank you and as usual, thanks for reading :)   
> also, heads up, this is the second to last chapter

It was April, and the other acceptance letters had come in by then. Steven was accepted to Drexel, surprisingly, and he told Xabi four times before he finally believed it himself and began to celebrate. He didn’t even think about accepting. He didn’t even think about going there. He didn’t even think he had a chance of getting in, but he had and he finally felt like he had accomplished something even if it was just one tiny letter. 

 

It had been official that Xabi was going to Stanford for almost a month, but it finally sank in when Steven was thinking about his own future. 

 

“It’s so fucking far away,” Steven complained quietly as he rested his head against Xabi’s bookcase. “I hate that. It just feels like I’ve had you for a little while and now you’re going away.” 

 

“That’s because that’s exactly what it is,” Xabi replied dryly. He hardly looked up from his history textbook. 

 

“Well,” Steven continued, unperturbed by Xabi’s apparent lack of interest, “At least it’s not like you’re going to Italy or South Africa or something halfway across the world like that you know? Distance is all relative, I guess. At least it’s just...the other side of the country.” 

 

“Country’s pretty big.” 

 

“Some things are bigger,” Steven said, and at first he was serious, that some things were more important than distance and time and all that realistic bullshit, but then he cracked a smile because he was definitely not about the mushy life. “Like my cock,” he finished, winking in Xabi’s direction. 

 

Xabi snorted quietly, but he still didn’t look up, and Steven thought he was being really stupid about the time they had left. But that was okay, and he was definitely not going to tell Xabi that. Besides, it had been his idea, hadn’t it? To never see Xabi again? He put his head in his hands and pretended to study. He couldn’t even remember anymore. 

 

The heat shut off later and the air conditioning went crazy, and it was like something out of a movie because Xabi and Stevie were forced closer, and Xabi even went to grab the big blanket they could share. Steven put his head on Xabi’s chest, and Xabi smelled like the locker room shampoo and grass and pencil shavings. Steven shut his eyes and tried to memorize that smell because he had this horrible feeling that months from now, he would still be aching to bury his face in Xabi’s chest and memorize everything about him all over again. 

 

“Are you happy?” Steven asked later, trying to keep his voice light, but he really wanted to know if Xabi was okay and even though they were best friends and had been together for the better part of a year, he still didn’t know how to ask. 

 

Xabi smiled. “We won the league,” he said instead of answering, instead of making it about them. “And we’re going to beat you in that friendly.” 

 

“Fuck off,” Steven moaned. “We’ll get you this time. I swear it, Xabi. I just feel like we can win it this time.” 

 

“Rec hasn’t beaten us in seventeen years. If you think you’re going to win it now, you’re out of your fucking mind. We have Cristiano Ronaldo.” 

 

“We have Lionel Messi.” 

 

Xabi snorted. “Yeah, and who else?” 

 

Steven groaned into his pillow. “I swear to God, I want to beat you so bad just to rub it into your face. Not even to win it. Just to rub it in.” 

 

“Mhm.” Xabi hummed happily to himself. “Don’t worry. I’ll buy you a drink after you lose.” 

 

+ 

 

CR7: yoo you coming to the game 

cuntrao: u bet ur sweet lil ass i am 

CR7: get a seat with ricky so you two can fangirl over me all night 

cuntrao: i get to sit with the bf?? I’m honored 

CR7: well he’s gotta meet the fam at some point 

cuntrao: am i the overprotective father or the ‘don’t give him an std’ brother? 

CR7: no ur my sweet mother and u make me cookies all the time 

cuntrao: i’m not fukin baking you cookies 

cuntrao: little princess 

cuntrao: just go down to the vending machine 

cuntrao: YOU CAN’T JUST BUTTER ME UP WITH LOVE AND TELL ME WE’RE FAMILY AND THEN EXPECT ME TO REWARD YOU WITH FOOD 

CR7: use your inside voice please and yes i can 

CR7: cookies please 

CR7: not chocolate chip tho because i had those last time and i miss the ones with sprinkles 

cuntrao: fuck you 

cuntrao: and fuck sprinkles 

 

+ 

 

Iker was in class, constantly straightening and re-straightening his pile of books. Mr. Beckham was going on about how the book they were currently reading was also connected to Hamlet somehow, and Iker was more concerned about the upcoming game. 

 

Finally, David set down his book, sighed loudly, and rubbed his eyes with the backs of his fists. “Alright, I know no one is paying attention. Who’s going to the game after school?” Immediately there was an uproar from the class, and someone in the back of the room shouted about “betting on Ronaldo.” 

 

“Betting on him to suck my dick,” someone shouted back, and Iker rolled his eyes. 

 

David smiled faintly, and he said, “Yeah, same. I’m bringing the wife and kids. I have a feeling it’s going to be one hell of a match, am I right?” He lifted his chin questioningly in Iker and Xabi’s direction. 

 

Iker remembered when he used to be the only reason David came to games, and it hurt somewhere deep inside of him, somewhere he’d forgotten existed, to know that wasn’t true anymore. He could get as far as he wanted from his past--from David, from being treated like he was worth nothing by someone who was worth everything-- but he thought he would never shake the feeling of disappointment when he realized David could move on from him. What Iker thought was love was temporary and love wasn’t supposed to be temporary, at least not in his mind. 

 

Someone asked David to pull up a picture of his wife and kids, and Iker flinched. Victoria was as beautiful and severe looking as ever. Their kids looked like they could be fucking models when they grew up, and Iker had that horrible feeling in his chest again, like he had been so close to ruining something so beautiful, and that was how David felt about him, and that was how Iker felt about Cesc. It was one giant circle, and Iker would never get away from it. And with Cesc in the picture, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. He thought about Cesc, about his quiet smile or his funny dancing, or the way his eyes shone when he smiled, and he felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders because Cesc was his way of letting go. 

 

Xabi noticed Iker’s reaction, the way his shoulders tensed up as soon as David started talking again and he misinterpreted it as pre-match nerves. “Worried?” Xabi asked, nudging Iker’s leg with his foot. “About the game,” he clarified when Iker looked back at the picture of David’s kids with a strange expression. 

 

“I don’t know.” Iker scratched his chin. His shoulders tensed up even more. 

 

“Relax,” Xabi said levelheadedly. “We always beat them. You and I both know they have little to no chance of beating us. It should be like training for us.” 

 

“Things aren’t always as they should be,” Iker replied, shooting Xabi the look he normally shot Cristiano and Sergio. “Don’t get cocky. And besides, rec’s got Leo, and I’ve developed a new appreciation that kid’s talent every since I snuck into their practice last week.” 

 

Xabi shrugged, but a flicker of humility broke his proud mask. “I know, I know. He’s good. I get it. But it shouldn’t really matter, should it? Because we’re better.” 

 

+ 

 

It was right before the game, they were walking out, and the whole school was there. Cristiano was combing his hair back, calm and unsmiling like he always was before a match. Iker was nervous, tense, and Cristiano tried to catch his eye to tell him to calm down. Sergio was excited, hopping up and down right behind Iker with a gleam in his eyes. Xabi found Steven, and they nodded to each other, simply, efficiently, carefully. 

 

The game began with a flurry of movement, and most of the crowd was behind the team, but there were a few banners for rec. David Villa sat in the stands, and he cheered for neither side, but when Leo got the ball, his heart raced and his hand gripping the back of the seat in front of him, knuckles shining white. 

 

Cristiano floated around the pitch, and he felt like he was dreaming. He and Sergio linked up, and they shared a smile even when it was a chance and nothing more. Xabi sent Cristiano through, but he shot it just wide, and the crowd groaned. They were fifteen minutes in, and it was still 0-0, and even though it was just fifteen fucking minutes, the crowd was starving for a goal. 

 

And they didn’t disappoint. 

 

Someone shouted something from the stands, something directed at the team and how they were a “bunch of fags” and Xabi tried to roll his eyes because he’d heard that before, but a surge of anger nearly swept him away. His eyes narrowed, his hands formed fists. 

 

A perfect ball headed from Xabi to Sergio, he jumped as high as he could, and sent the header down with the strength of his entire body behind it. It was a beautiful goal, and Sergio ran back to hug Xabi, ripping off his shirt and waving it at the crowd to get them riled up. Banners flew and confetti rained down on their heads. It may have been just a friendly, but it was also about one team reigning so supremely dominantly that it was like the fans never had a choice. 

The first half ended without another goal, and Sergio was showered with girls’ kisses as he walked to the locker room. “Nice turnout,” he remarked to Cristiano as two bras rained down on his head. “Really nice,” he said, blowing them a kiss. 

 

Cristiano laughed, and slapped Sergio on the back, congratulating him for the goal. “Get another one and it might even get your ugly ass laid.” 

 

“Please,” Sergio yelled, “I can score any day I want.” And he proceeded to dance, waving his butt in everyone’s face until the second half started, and they were all reminded why they hated it so much when Sergio scored. 

 

It was just after halftime, and the team returned feeling confident, like victory was just 45 minutes away. They were 1-0 up, but they felt like they were invincible, and invincibility was always dangerous, a lie, and the first sign that something wicked this way comes. 

 

Leo’s goal came as a shock for everyone, and the crowd went wild. One second they were behind Sergio always and completely, and the next, it was Leo’s name they were chanting. Even people who didn’t know him, who had never heard of him before that day, were yelling his name and telling their friends they had “history, or whatever” together, that they swore they were taking him out after the game, that they knew of a party he could get them into. 

 

Everyone on the pitch was confused because Leo just came flying out of nowhere and suddenly the game was tied. Rec had been playing horribly, but suddenly, because of one lapse of judgement, a little dash of brilliance, and a lot of dumb luck, they were level. 

 

Leo was still smiling and shaking from the goal when he caught Cristiano staring at him from a few feet away. “Nice goal,” he called, and he smoothed his hair back again. “Shame it’s a waste.” 

 

“Yeah?” He checked behind him to make sure they still had a second to talk. There was a substitution and Cesc was coming on. “How’s it a waste then?” 

 

Cristiano smirked. “Because I’m going to score and win it.” 

 

Twelve minuets later, the ball broke clean through the back of the net, and Cristiano turned to Leo, saluting him mockingly. 

 

+ 

 

There were celebrations afterwards, but Leo didn’t really feel like celebrating, and he hardly felt like drinking (although he liked his drunk self a whole lot more than his actual self) because he was upset about the loss, and he felt like it was his responsibility to stop Cristiano. He wasn’t trying to be arrogant, but he knew he was the only one good enough. He knew he was the only one with a chance of helping rec win it, and he completely blew that chance. 

 

He was standing alone somewhere underneath the huge bleachers because most of the people were leaving, and he really didn’t want to have to deal with their congratulations on his goal and their fake sympathy. He opened the beer Xabi had handed him and was about to take a sip when there was a quiet cough from behind him. 

 

He whipped around, preparing to tell someone to fuck off, seriously, because he really wasn’t in the mood to hear about how good of a goal it was and how it was such a shame he couldn’t have done better. But it was only Cristiano, and so he relaxed, shot him a half-assed nasty glare, and slumped against one of the metal bits that held the bleachers up. 

 

“What do you want?” Leo sighed. “For me to congratulate you? Tell you you’re better than me?” Cristiano was silent. He put his hands behind his back and raised his eyebrows in response, waiting for Leo to get it all off his chest. “Fuck you,” he said finally, but it lacked any real venom. 

 

Cristiano smiled, removed the medal hanging from his neck, and put it around Leo’s. He didn’t even try to choke him with it or anything. Just stepped back and nodded. He said, “Nice goal. You’re actually a pretty cool person. I thought you deserved that a little more than I did.” 

 

“Are you kidding me right now? Like, is this a prank? Is Sergio filming this whole thing somewhere up there?” 

 

“No, Sergio is fucking Fernando,” Cristiano answered quite seriously. “And no, I’m serious. I get it, we’re not friends, but I’m glad we met and I’m glad we played each other.” 

 

Leo hesitated. Then he reached up, removed the medal, and tossed it back to Cristiano who immediately slung it back around his neck like he was expecting it. “You’re not actually an asshole,” Leo said simply. 

 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

 

“It’s not a compliment. It’s just not an insult.” 

 

Cristiano grinned, and walked away, and when Leo stepped out from under the bleachers, he saw Cristiano with his arm around Ricky, smiling and showing him the medal like it was the greatest thing he’d ever won even though they were plastic and technically it was a friendly so they really shouldn’t have won anything, but whatever. That was a technicality and Leo was wiling to overlook all that because of the smiles the two of them were wearing. 

 

Leo started to walk back to his dorm room, feeling pretty lonely and shitty about life in general because it seemed like everyone else was working through their massive pile of relationship drama-- everyone except him and David. 

 

On the way to his room, he got a lot of congratulations from a lot of people he didn’t know and he nodded listlessly, walking away from them before they even finished what they were saying. And then he heard, “Hey, miracle boy” in that mocking voice, and he stopped. He waited for David to catch up with him without looking over. 

 

They walked on in silence. Leo thinks about everything all at once, and David thinks about nothing-- or tries to. 

 

“Were you at the game?” Leo asked finally noticing that David led them the long way around to their dorm. 

 

“I was.” 

 

Leo didn’t say anything else because he knew that if David wanted to say something, he would say it, and if he didn’t want to say it, no amount of prodding or urging would make him say it. Finally, he paused in the middle of the walkway, sighed loudly like Leo was forcing him to say it, and shoved his hands in his pockets. “It was a good goal, or whatever,” he said. 

 

He frowned and turned to start walking again. Leo followed him with a muted smile. “You know,” he started again, “If you joined the team and quit rec, you and Cris would make one hell of a combination.” 

 

Leo’s eyes narrowed. “Fucking hell. Not you too. I don’t want to join them.” 

 

“If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.” 

 

Leo pointedly ignored that, and he decided it would be very fucking easy to get over David Villa because he was a complete bitch, and Leo’s life was much simpler without him. So. Whatever. 

 

“I like rec,” he added finally, trying to tone down the annoyance in his voice. 

 

“Yeah? Do you also like underachieving?” 

 

Leo snorted bitterly. “How can you look me in the eye and lecture me about underachieving when you’re going off to some random ass university in San Francisco just to run away from the life you have here?” 

 

They stopped in front of their dorm room, and David looked at him for a second, a wave of anger crossing his features. And then he opened the door, tensely allowed Leo to walk in before him, and slammed the door behind them. He stood in the middle of the room and looked at Leo with a million things he couldn’t say. 

 

“You’re smarter than that,” Leo said, quietly this time. 

 

“Being good at lying and cheating doesn’t make me smart and it sure as shit isn’t going to make me rich.” 

 

“Works for politicians.” 

 

David smiled. That seemed to relax him, and his shoulder slumped again. He sat down on his bed and took out a candy bar from his pocket. “Nice goal though,” he said again, and he set down his candy bar. “Really nice goal.” He looked like he wanted to say something else. 

 

Leo started talking at the same time David started up again, and they looked at each other and smiled uncomfortably. Leo gestured for David to go on, and he nodded. 

 

“I’m sorry about the other night,” he said hesitantly. “I actually, uh. I don’t know. I guess I actually care-- about you. And for the first time, it felt like someone cared about me back.” He looked up at Leo to gauge his reaction, and the hope in his expression blew Leo the fuck away. 

 

He nodded. “Yeah,” he said quietly. He cleared his throat, nodded again. “Yeah.” 

 

“I don’t want to hurt you.” David looked confused, like he didn’t believe the words were coming out of his mouth. He scratched the back of his neck. “But I want you to come visit me. I don’t want to stop seeing you. Will you come? To San Francisco?” He laughed breathlessly. “To see me?” 

 

Leo nodded. 

 

+ 

 

They agreed to meet up in Sergio’s room because his and Iker’s was the one next to the vending machine. Cesc and Iker were sitting on the bed, Cristiano and  Ricky at the foot of Sergio’s bed, Sergio on his own bed, and Fernando spinning in his spinny chair in front of his desk. 

 

Iker was more reserved around Cesc, even more so than when he was with David because it was like Iker was finally taking control in a relationship. Cesc was sitting with his legs under his body, and he smiled up at Iker anytime he said anything. He smiled like Iker was his fucking sun, and it hurt Iker to think about anything other than always, always being there for Cesc. 

 

They got to talking about colleges again, and Sergio threw his empty bottle at Iker. “You’re going to be even more stuck up when you come back from that place.” As soon as he said it, Sergio’s eyes went a little serious, and there was the unspoken question of “you’ll come back, won’t you?” 

 

And then Cesc spoke it, slowly and carefully and so full of faith that Iker only knew of one answer. “Of course I will,” Iker assured him, and Cristiano raised his eyebrows in the corner like he wasn’t so sure Iker was telling the truth. 

 

“At least graduation is in a week and a half though, right?” Sergio cut in, hoping to lighten the mood. 

 

Cristiano made a face at him like, _wow, you totally don’t understand that graduation is upsetting you’re so fucking stupid_. “At least there’s going to be a kickass party,” he said firmly, hoping to steer the conversation away from anything sad. “And we better be able to crash it.” 

 

“Of course.” Iker threw the empty bottle back at Sergio. “I have no idea what I’d do without you guys there.” And if they hadn’t known any better, they almost might have wondered if it was a heartfelt confession of how much he would miss them. 

 

Ricky sipped his vodka soda. It had slowly but surely become his favorite. “Not sure if I’m going to the party,” he said finally when there was a moment of silence after Cristiano and Sergio finished making fun of Iker for sounding genuine. “I don’t really like parties, no offense, and you always ditch me.” He glares a little at Cristiano. _It’s the alcohol,_ he wants to tell them, but his tongue won’t listen. _I’m not actually pissed._ I’m just-- 

 

“Oh shut the fuck up, you absolute buffoon,” Iker groaned. “There’s no way we’re going to ditch you. You’re our ticket into heaven.” 

 

Ricky laughed into his drink, spilling some on himself, and Cristiano reached over to help him pick it back up before he got his shirt soaking wet. “I’m not sure even my saintliness can counteract your sins.” 

 

Fernando chuckled and held up his glass, almost falling off the bed as he shouted, “To sins then.” They all drank to sins though they weren’t really sure why. 

 

The door opened as they were shouting about sins and getting into heaven and how even Ricky’s dick was a better person than the rest of them put together when the door opened and David walked in with more booze. 

 

“What are we talking about?” 

 

“Heaven,” Cristiano answered as if that cleared up why Sergio was attempting some sort of interpretive dance around Ricky’s crotch. 

 

“Ah. Heaven.” He snorted. “Count me out.” 

 

+ 

 

And then it was the next week, and they were back in class. Cristiano still hated math, but the year was almost over, so he was staring out the window as Demon Teacher passed out the last few graded assignments. 

 

Cristiano was just minding his own business, not talking to anyone and not receiving his paper when Leo walked over and dropped a packet on his desk. “Got yours,” he said. Cristiano thanked him, shoved the dumbass assignment in his notebook, and when he looked up, Leo was still lingering. “So, uh listen...” 

 

“I’m listening.” 

 

“There’s a summer trip with the bible study group. We’re visiting California. You should come.” Leo wouldn’t look him in the eye, and Fernando nodded, small and unsure like he still couldn’t completely get over his hatred for Cristiano. Cristiano kind of understood that though, like, he did fuck Fernando’s boyfriend. 

 

Cristiano shrugged. “Not sure if I’m going to do it next year. I don’t really give a shit about religion, so.” 

 

“I’m not too religious myself, but it’s a nice way to keep in touch, you know?” 

 

Cristiano understood then, and he nodded. “Yeah, course, we’ll keep in touch.” Leo glared sourly like he wasn’t supposed to say it loud, and now that it was out there, he had to be rude to Cristiano again. The other boy laughed and turned to Fernando. “So is Sergio going to be in it next year?” 

 

Fernando sighed like an old married woman did when talking about her husband’s habit of eating bacon every night for seventy-five years. “You’re asking me to predict what Sergio Ramos will do? hm?” 

 

Cristiano laughed again, and he opened his binder to rearrange the papers because he was actually starting to enjoy himself talking to them, and he didn’t want them to see that written in his expression. “Only thing you can really predict about him is that he wants a dick up his ass.” Fernando frowned at first, but then a pink blush began to spread over his freckled cheeks, and Cristiano asked, “What, were you last night’s bottom or something?” 

 

“Last night’s bottom?” Fernando repeated incredulously. “More like every night’s bottom.” 

 

Cristiano snorted. “Dude, just walk into his room one day, tell him to get naked and bend over. And he’ll fucking do it, man, he won’t even hesitate. Just make sure he can still reach your ass when you’re fucking him because he loves your ass.” 

 

“Thanks? I guess?” 

 

“No problem, sweetcheeks. And I hope you know what sweetcheeks I’m referring to.” 

 

+ 

 

“So, how are you and Iker?” Gerard asked, trying to smile as he sat down and removed his shoes, splattered with mud from track. 

 

“We fucked,” Cesc shouted proudly, leaping around the room before he came to land in front of Gerard. He tackled him back on the bed, muddy hands and all, and planted a huge kiss on his forehead. “We fucked,” he said again, shaking Gerard’s shoulder and smiling down at him. Gerard winced a little and looked away. Cesc punched his arm. “Come on, why do you always hate it when I talk about Iker?” 

 

Cesc rolled off Gerard and flopped to his side, still looking up at him. Gerard blew out a long sigh, muttered _what the hell_ under his breath and said, “Look I used to be in love with someone, okay? A friend.” He hesitated. “My best friend.” Cesc paled. “Yeah,” Gerard laughed uncomfortably in reaction to his face. His smile faded almost at once. “Yeah.” 

 

Cesc didn’t look like he would be able to speak. He looked frozen and shocked and _sorry_. 

 

“And, uh, I don’t know, it’s tough, keeping that in for as long as I’ve known him-- you. But I finally found someone and I finally feel close to what I used to feel for you, for her, and getting that jealous best friend feeling feels a lot like that jealous in love feeling and it’s hard to distinguish the two.” 

 

Cesc sounded breathless. “You really used to feel that way?” 

 

“I did. I really did.” 

 

Cesc laughed a little, stuttering and short like he still couldn’t catch his breath. “Wish I would have fallen for you instead of Iker.” 

 

“Me too.” 

 

Cesc folded his hands behind his head, and he was finally starting to sound normal again. He was careful not to scoot too close to Gerard. “It would have been much simpler, much purer, and all that shit.” 

 

“Yeah, but I see the way you look at Iker, and I know that it couldn’t--shouldn’t-- be any other way.” He smiled when he felt Cesc’s shoulder brush his. Cesc didn’t move it away, and his smile didn’t fade this time. 

 

“And what about the way Iker looks at me?” Cesc asked, sounding shy around Gerard for the first time in seventeen years. “I’m still not sure sometimes.” 

 

Gerard sighed, and he let his hand fall on top of Cesc’s comfortingly. “Honestly, it’s like he’s looking at his other half or some fucked up corny bullshit like that.” He hesitated again. “I just want to make sure you’re happy.” 

 

“I am,” Cesc said softly. “But I’m just now starting to realize what a shitty friend I’ve been, and that’s not the greatest feeling.” He rolled onto his stomach and pulled out his english homework. “So tell me about this girl.” 

 

And for the first time in a long time, the conversation was about Gerard and his life and the person he found and not Cesc. Gerard was the one talking for hours on end about how much he liked her because she was smart and funny and pretty and thoughtful, and she knew how Gerard used to feel about Cesc and she wasn’t freaked out by it. 

 

“I feel like she could by my best friend someday, you know? I feel like I could really love her.” He twisted the comforter around his hand, not seeing Cesc look up to watch him. “Maybe when I forget about you, or maybe when I start to love you a little less.” 

 

“Is that ever going to happen?” Cesc wanted to reach out and grab his hand, but he was afraid he would just make things worse. 

 

“I don’t know.”   



	22. Endgame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Goodbye, but not really. You know that right? Never an end. Never really goodbye.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is only 1 am writing, so it should be more coherent than the others. Please see end notes for everything I want to say to my lovely readers.   
> google water park if you don't know what it is. I want this chapter to make sense to you.   
> also here is what I was listening to when I wrote this chp: http://8tracks.com/melancholie/the-spirits-of-the-fog-are-singing-to-me 
> 
> IMPORTANT NOTE: Comment, rage, scream at me for the ending. But just please try and understand it?? okay, read.

The night felt alive all around him, but Iker did not. They had just graduated, and there was a huge crowd outside the auditorium, shouting for their children and offering congratulations to other students they were familiar with. Iker’s family was already in the car. They’d politely greeted Sergio’s family on their way, but that was enough. Iker’s brother, Unai, was trailing behind him because Iker had hastily sent his parents and grandparents to the car, grabbed Unai’s car, and begged his parents’ permission to bring Unai to the graduation party afterwards. They reluctantly agreed after Unai started whining about being “already 15” and “practically grown up.” 

 

Despite his old age, Unai was still hanging on to the back of Iker’s coat as they made their way through the crowd, pestering him about some kid Iker was supposedly dating. “Iker,” he whined, “You never tell me anything. I tell you everything, and I had to hear it from Sergio that you’re sleeping with someone.” 

 

Iker grabbed his brother’s hand as they crossed the street. “You know what, next time you get information from that gossiping piece of shit, do me a favor and tell him to go fuck himself because, from now on, he’s getting the silent treatment from me.” 

 

Unai pulled his hand from Iker’s as soon as they were on the other side, glaring around furiously, and Iker chose not to make fun of him for having gripped Iker’s hand tightly as they crossed the street. “So you _are_ dating someone?” 

 

“Dating?” Iker scratched the back of his neck. His graduation robe was itchy under his jacket. “I don’t know. I mean, sort of. I guess.” 

 

Unai grinned. “Sergio said he was younger than you. Dating a junior or something?” 

 

Iker immediately looked away. He started to walk down the block, and Unai trotted behind him like a lost puppy. “Iker,” he whined again. “Iker, come on, your grad night bus doesn’t leave for fifteen minutes. There’s literally no reason to run.” 

 

Iker peered at him closely. “Are you getting out of shape? Is Mom making you eat all that rice again?” 

 

“Fuck off,” Unai groaned. “She’s on this new diet thing. We eat a lot of salads.” 

 

Iker looked at him carefully again. Unai always said he “aggressively cared.” He poked his younger brother’s cheek, staring at it suspiciously. “Is that why you’re looking paler than usual?” 

 

“Iker,” Unai groaned, gritting his teeth. “I’m not here to tell you about mom’s new diet plan, okay? I want to know about this kid.” 

 

Iker stared back blankly. His fingers felt numb pressed against the insides of his coat pockets. “He’s not a junior. Sophomore.” 

 

Unai’s eyes widened. He let out a low whistle. “Fuck. If we went to the same school, we would’ve been classmates. Fuck. How old is he? Fifteen? Iker.” He looked at Iker and shook his head very seriously. “Iker,” he said again like that was enough. 

 

“He’s sixteen, and up until today, I was seventeen, so it’s not that weird.”  

 

“What, did he turn sixteen yesterday or something?” 

 

“Three weeks ago.” 

 

“Aw, you guys are almost birthday buddies.” Unai pulled a face Iker had a hard time describing without wanting to punch himself. “That’s cute.” 

 

“Fuck you.” 

 

Unai’s smile died down after awhile. They crossed another street and Iker grabbed his hand. Unai didn’t protest until the other side, just like the time before. Finally, “He’s young.” 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

“Easy to hurt.” 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

“Is that why you like him?” 

 

“I don’t know.” 

 

Unai tugged at his coat sleeve again, and Iker stopped walking. He silently pleaded with his eyes. “Are you going to break up?” 

 

Iker paused. Then, “Yeah.” 

 

There was one more street to cross. Unai grabbed his brother’s hand with a long sort of sigh. “That fucking sucks.” 

 

+ 

 

As soon as Iker arrived with his plus one (they were allowed one guest), and the woman at the door checked them off her masterlist, he found a seat near Xabi and his plus one (Sergio) and Steven and his (Cesc, after hours of begging from Xabi and Iker, Steven finally agreed). David was two rows behind them, pointedly not looking or speaking to Leo. Ricky walked in with Cristiano a little bit after Iker and Unai arrived. Sergio and Fernando both found seniors they had classes with, but they sat next to Xabi and Steven instead of their human tickets. 

 

Unai immediately gravitated to Sergio, and Sergio pulled him in for a huge hug, introducing him to Fernando quickly and without much fuss. Which, for Sergio, was something totally new and different, and it meant Fernando was fitting in rather nicely. Fernando waved shyly, and Unai smiled back. 

 

He moved on to Cristiano next, and Cristiano grabbed him by the shoulders, looked him very carefully in the eyes. “Did Iker already tell you that you look paler than usual?” 

 

Unai rolled his eyes, and Cristiano pulled him in for a quick hug. “This is Ricky,” he said simply. “He’s cool.” 

 

And Unai understood that to be a proper introduction. “So what’s it like dating Cristiano Ronaldo?” he asked with mock-awe. He ducked his head when Cristiano reached out to slap at him. “I’m joking, I’m joking.” He hesitantly inched back towards the seat next to Iker, watching Cristiano the whole way. Cristiano lunged at him on his way to his own seat, but he messed with Unai’s hair instead of doing any real damage. 

 

He greeted Xabi next with a grin, and he didn’t know Steven that well, so he just smiled again. He checked back up with Iker afterwards, to see if he had done well. Iker smiled. 

 

“So,” Unai whispered, nudging Iker’s arm. “The guy.” 

 

And then, from behind Iker somewhere, “You must be Unai.” Horrified, Iker turned to find Cesc looking younger and more adorable than ever, reaching out his hand to shake Unai’s. “I’m Cesc. I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

 

“No, he hasn’t,” Iker grumbled. “I only said you were my brother.” 

 

Unai smiled, and Cesc continued, rolling right over Iker’s words, “He said you weren’t allowed to come to Hastings. Why not?” 

 

Unai rolled his eyes. “Got expelled in 8th grade for selling test answers. Didn’t get in here.” He shrugged. “What can I do, you know? Iker’s always going to be the golden child.” 

 

Cesc laughed, and his eyes did that thing where they crinkled at the edges, and Iker felt something in his chest he had to force down. “Yeah. Golden.” 

 

Unai looked from Cesc to Iker and then back again, and realization dawned on his features. “Holy shit,” he said quietly. His eyes widened. His mouth opened and closed, and then he quickly recovered, looking back up to smile at Cesc. He was good like that. He was always good at pretending where Iker never had been. “Him?” he whispered to Iker as Cesc rooted around in his pocket for his phone, momentarily distracted. 

 

“Yes,” Iker snapped, slapping at Unai’s arm. “Now shut up and don’t say anything. I’ve got a lot of shit I have to say to him later, and I really don’t want to put him through any more than he already has to go through.” 

 

Unai traced the veins on his hand. “Or you could just, I don’t know, not break up with him.” 

 

“We’re not even-- it’s not even a concrete thing that we’re together. I mean, I don’t call him my boyfriend or anything like that.” 

 

Unai shrugged. “You complicate things, Iker. You like him and he likes you. You’re leaving and he’s not. Decide which of those means more, and make your decision.” His eyes narrowed. “And quit fucking moping around.” 

 

+ 

 

Xabi and Steven weren’t holding hands because they were on the bus, and a lot of people already knew about them, but there were some that didn’t. And it’s not that Xabi was ashamed or anything like that. He just didn’t like PDA. He didn’t like being that couple that everyone knew about. He liked his privacy, and he liked being shrouded in a little mystery. 

 

Steven was playing with his phone on their way to the water park, and it was pretty cold, but it was sort of a tradition to rent out the entire water park until 6 a.m. for the graduating class and their plus ones. It was meant to be fun. It was going to be fun. Steven just didn’t feel like doing anything, that’s all. 

 

But he knew that Xabi was leaving the very next day around lunchtime for a vacation in France with his family. They wanted as much time as possible with Xabi before they shipped him off to Stanford. They were sad he was going away, but they were already away from him most of the time anyway. Steven thought they didn’t really deserve any more time with Xabi. He wanted that time. He knew it was selfish, but. He wanted it anyway. 

 

“What are you doing?” Xabi rested his head on Steven’s shoulder, peering over to look at his phone screen. 

 

“I don’t know. Just messing around, trying to look busy.” 

 

Xabi’s laugh was stuck in his throat. “We’ll have fun tonight, right?” 

 

“Yeah, we will,” Steven said sincerely. “We’ll ride anything you want.” 

 

Xabi didn’t smile. He turned away, pressed his nose against the glass, stared outside blankly and thought about graduation and goodbyes. 

 

+ 

 

Ricky was walking slowly around the long, lazy river that ran all throughout the park. It was clear blue water and it flowed slowly, easily, pushing him along in his floating white donut. He paddled himself along happily, and Cristiano bounced beside him, talking cheerfully about the number of pictures he’d gotten of Ricky receiving his diploma. 

 

Finally he was quiet, and he gave Ricky a funny look. “You’re not listening, are you?” 

 

“What?” Ricky yelped. He sat up straight in his donut. “I was. I swear I was. I was just thinking.” 

 

“Thinking.” 

 

“Yes, thinking. People do that sometimes.” 

 

“Not me. So it’s irrelevant.” 

 

Ricky splashed him. Cristiano splashed back, and a war began. Ricky disappeared behind a wall of water, ducking underneath his donut to grab Cristiano’s legs underwater, pushing him against the side of the river-pool. “I win,” Ricky said, pressing his lips to Cristiano’s neck. 

 

“You know I could just slip down and start putting my lips somewhere a little more useful.” Ricky colored, and his grip loosened. Cristiano grinned, slipped through and suddenly Ricky was the one being pressed against the wall. “I win,” Cristiano cackled gleefully. 

 

Ricky pouted, brushing the wet strands of hair out of his eyes. He pouted harder. 

 

Cristiano’s smile faded. “Alright, alright. Fine. You win.” He made a face. “You fucking suck.” 

 

Ricky swam forward to kiss him, and his legs wrapped around Cristiano’s waist. “Promise you won’t be an asshole while I’m gone?” 

 

“Impossible.” 

 

“Promise.” 

 

“I can’t promise anything so ridiculous.” Cristiano took Ricky’s hand, regally and mockingly, and together they pranced down the remainder of the river until they were back where it all began. Then, “I promise.” 

 

+ 

 

Sergio and Fernando were hanging on to each other on the huge purple ride, and they were being showered with water, and Fernando had just gotten a mouthful of it when Sergio decided he wanted to be thoughtful. “Hey.” He poked Fernando’s back, and another wave of water pressed them down flat. “You know that--” 

 

Another wave of water, and Fernando coughed. “What? What are you saying? Can it wait?” 

 

“No,” yelled Sergio, and their cart, the only section of the ride that hadn’t yet gone down the giant waterfall, began to dip. They accelerated. Sergio spat out a mouthful of water, and he held on to Fernando tighter. “You know that I didn’t fall for you right away.” 

 

“Yeah, I know. Thanks a fucking lot. I don’t need to be remind--” 

 

And then they were falling, and the spray of water kept them from speaking. Sergio’s hands didn’t loosen around Fernando’s waist, and they kept falling. And falling. Until they were completely submerged in water, and only then did the tracks rise again, rising in a clear arc above the water, and Sergio and Fernando emerged, sopping wet and breathing hard. 

 

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Sergio continued as if nothing had happened. Fernando was still spluttering. “I mean, that is what I meant, but. No, look, I didn’t fall for you right away, but I should have. I should have noticed you earlier, and I never should have hit you. That fight never should have happened.”  

 

The ride attendant came around to unbuckle the straps holding them in. Fernando turned to face Sergio, water clinging to his cheeks. His lips were pink, his cheekbones more pronounced, his eyes wide, and he looked so innocent it physically hurt Sergio not to touch him. 

 

“You know that, right? That I’m sorry for everything before? That I’m sorry that I can’t be a better person for you?” And then Sergio was starting to sound panicked in the middle of a water park in the middle of the night in the middle of a crowd, and Fernando nodded shakily because he did. He did know. 

 

He leaned forward to press their lips together gently, and Sergio waved his middle finger at anyone watching. 

 

+ 

 

Cesc and Unai were getting along well, and that was a problem. Iker couldn’t ditch Unai because he didn’t want to speak to Cesc just yet and Unai was acting as their buffer. But seeing Unai and Cesc happily talking made Iker wonder if he was making the right decision, and then it only made him more concerned because Cesc was more like his little brother than he even knew. And Iker was meant to protect the both of them, and it was a constant fear of his that he was doing a shitty job. He needed someone to tell him once in awhile that he wasn’t constantly fucking everyone else up all the time. 

 

“...no way. No fucking way.” 

 

“No, yeah, I’m serious. The ice cubes melted and the mentos were in his drink, and then it just exploded in his face, and it was the most hilarious thing. He was just covered in soda, It was great.” 

 

“Oh my god. I wish I could have been there. Oh my god. I need to try that sometime...” 

 

Iker let their conversation fade out again, and they continued to stand waiting for their drinks. Sometime after that, Unai left because Cristiano and Ricky found a ride they knew he’d like, and then Iker was left alone with Cesc, and he didn’t know what to say. He never knew what to say. He was just as lost in the whole thing as Cesc was. 

 

But then Cesc was biting his lip, watching Iker tentatively. He reached into the pockets of his swim trunks (what kind of swim trunks have pockets though? is what Iker wanted to know) and slouched there like he was ducking from what Iker was about to say. 

 

“I know what you’re going to say,” he said finally, breathing it all out like a long, angry sigh. “And I don’t want to hear it. I mean, say it. But just know that it’s complete shit. And you’re taking the easy way out.” 

 

“And what exactly do you think I’m going to say?” Their drinks arrived, and Iker sipped at his disinterestedly. 

 

“You’re breaking up with me.” Iker just stared back coldly, going numb at the words. “And then you’re going to claim that we never really had a thing anyway, that maybe we never really felt anything, that you’re just trying to protect me. That it’s not me, it’s _you_. You’ll apologize, and kiss my forehead, and whisper goodbye, and I’ll stand here loving you. And then you’ll walk away and have a miserable time with your friends because you know you made a huge mistake.” 

 

Iker opened his mouth to speak, but Cesc shook his head. 

 

“No, shut up. Then you’ll go off to Yale next year, and you know what? It’s not that fucking far away. And you’ll realize that when you meet up with Sergio and Cris, and you’ll wonder if you ever should have given us a chance, and then you’ll meet some fucking art major or something and you’ll start sleeping with him. And yeah, he’ll probably be better than me in every single way, but you’ll still find yourself missing that immature kid who looked at you like you were his whole fucking world.” 

 

The fire died down in Cesc’s eyes, and he stepped back, seemingly surprised that he was able to get everything out without messing up or breaking down or both at the same time. He raised his chin defiantly, and nodded as if to say, _so there it is_. 

 

“You’re right,” Iker said quietly. “About everything, I guess.” He waited until it looked like Cesc was going to start ranting again. “But, you know I’m a little bit right too.” 

 

“There isn’t a little bit right or a lot right. There’s just right and wrong.” 

 

And Iker wanted to smile for that. “But you know I have a point. You know that next year you might find someone too. That long distance relationships don’t work. That maybe we’ll both find someone else.” 

 

“And maybe we’ll go on caring,” Cesc snapped, intentionally sounding harsh and angry because he felt like he was the only one holding on and Iker was backing away. 

 

“Maybe. Probably. I don’t know.” Iker rubbed at the back of his neck. “I don’t want to completely break up with you--” 

 

“You can’t half break up with me--” 

 

Iker waited until he cut his outburst short. “But I don’t want to keep you from anything else either. There’s other people for you here. There’s all this shit for you to still go through that I’ve already gone through, and I can’t rob you of those experiences.” 

 

Cesc waited. He picked up his drink moodily and sipped from the tropical pink straw. 

 

“You know--” Iker faltered. “You know how I feel about you. You know that you’re--” He cut off, blew out a quiet sigh. “But anyway. I’m leaving, and I want to keep seeing you, but we can’t stay... I don’t know.” Iker rubbed at the back of his neck again, clearly uncomfortable with his choice of words. “...exclusive or whatever.” 

 

“Well. That’s shit.” Cesc laughed bitterly. The smile faded almost immediately, like the minute it graced his lips it was doomed to fail and die there. “Not exclusive? So I’m your bitch when you want me to be, but then you can just toss me aside when that dumb fucking art major wants you to model nude for him?” 

 

Iker shot him a confused, frustrated expression. “What the fuck is with you and this art major?” 

 

“I’ve been--” 

 

“And now that you’ve said that, I might pose nude--” 

 

“I’VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT WHEN YOU--” Cesc looked around, lowered his voice. “I’ve been thinking about when you leave, okay? I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I know you have to go, but it just. I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. I thought I was supposed to have some stupid high school fling with someone I didn’t really care about.” 

 

“Yeah.” Iker bit his lip. “Yeah, me too.” 

 

“Can you ever just fucking spit out how you feel?” 

 

“No. Not everyone can do that all the time.” 

 

“Fine. Fine. Then go on being silent and sullen, but don’t expect me to--” 

 

“Do you want to try it?” Iker blurted out, and he didn’t know what came over him, but he was staring at Cesc and he did love. Maybe for the first time ever, he really did love. Cesc looked as confused as Iker felt. “Try it,” Iker attempted to clarify. “Long distance and shit. Do you want to?” 

 

And then Cesc grinned like he had after their first time together, like Iker actually was his whole world, and Iker finally felt like he was doing something right. “It doesn’t really count as long distance, you know? It’s only about 3 hours driving, and--” He cut off when he saw Iker laughing. “Oh, fuck off, I already knew that. I didn’t look it up for you.” 

 

“Art major would have looked it up for me,” Iker teased. 

 

“Fuck you and fuck your art major. Actually, you and your art major should go fuck each other, because I’m not going to do you the honor anymore.” 

 

Cesc’s nose was sunburned, and his eyes shone. Iker bumped his shoulder, and Cesc smiled. 

 

+ 

 

David was still not speaking to Leo, and they hadn’t spoken on the bus either. Besides pleasantries, David was quiet and sullen, and Leo had forgotten that he got like that sometimes. Normally when he was talking to his family or someone he didn’t like at school or he had a meeting with his counselor. Or around holidays before Christmas. 

 

They were standing in the wave pool, and Leo found it quite interesting because he’d never been in one before. It was a giant pool of saltwater, and a machine on the far side of the pool propelled waves in their direction, waves high and strong enough to knock them off their feet. It was a little bit terrifying, but Leo wasn’t about to admit that. 

 

David was in the shallow end, standing with the water up to his waist, bumping into him gently. His hands were hanging loosely at his sides, and he was staring at nothing in particular. Leo joined him after experiencing the horrors of deeper water. 

 

“So I’ve decided I never want to sail anywhere.” 

 

“Hm?” 

 

“Sailing,” Leo repeated. “Not for me.” 

 

“Not for anyone, I don’t think. There’s a lot of puking involved.” 

 

“The same could be said for Sergio’s parties, but we go to those, don’t we?” 

 

David’s hair was wet, spiky in places, and his features were more angular than normal. He was paler too and shivering in the wind. “Since when did it become ‘we’?” 

 

“Since we admitted what we admitted.” Leo felt something clench in his stomach, but he pretended not to be anxious about his mistake. 

 

“What was it we admitted again?” 

 

“Nothing.” 

 

Leo moved forward, and the water slapped into his stomach. He felt a lump in his throat, but he swallowed it down, and his eyes narrowed. He was good at forgetting stuff like that. He was good at being strong when he had to be. 

 

“No.” David moved forward too. “No, I think I remember it being something.” His tone was apologetic, softer than normal. 

 

Leo almost smiled. “Maybe you’re wrong.” 

 

“I’m not wrong very often.” 

 

“Maybe you’re wrong about this?” And Leo didn’t feel it, but he said it because he felt like he had to. 

 

But David was standing very close to him, behind him and Leo could feel David’s breath at his back. “The only time I was wrong about this was when I didn’t notice you at all.” 

 

“You weren’t wrong, just ignorant.” 

 

“Ah, then look at that.” David didn’t smile, but Leo saw the familiar mocking look back in his eyes when he turned around. “I’ve never been wrong in all my life, and I’m not wrong when I say this: You’re an annoying roommate and you’re in desperate need of a haircut, but you’re sort of the only reason I hate to leave this shitty school.” 

 

Leo’s half-smile crumpled, and the lump was back in his throat. “I’m going to miss you,” he said, and his voice sounded weak and tired and lonely. 

 

“I know.” A long pause. “I’m going to miss you too.” More hesitation, David’s hand on his arm. And then David was moving him farther back into the deeper water, and finally when the water was about to close over his head, David looked at him, just looked, and in the split second before it happened, Leo realized David was going to kiss him. And then their lips were meeting, and it was like Leo was staring at the sun without blinking or walking on burning coals or listening to the echoes of rapidly approaching footsteps, and it was sort of perfect with the waves crashing down all around them.  

 

Then, “I bought you a ticket.” David smiled the most genuine smile Leo had ever seen on him. He quickly tried to suppress it, but it wouldn’t die down. “I don’t know if you want it, but I checked the schedule for next year to see when you have a three day weekend, and I thought maybe you could use the ticket and fly to San Francisco and stay--” 

 

Leo kissed him like he needed it to breathe. 

 

+ 

 

“So this is it, huh?” Steven asked. It was sometime before 6 a.m. and the sun was coming up behind him.  Xabi was staring at the rising sun instead of Steven. “This is goodbye? The end, yeah?” 

 

“Yeah.” Xabi’s mother pulled up to the front of the waterpark, waving and shouting though the window was rolled up so they could only see her flailing around, intensely doing an angry dance about missing their flight if Xabi didn’t hurry up. “But.” 

 

She rolled down her window, and started shouting, and Xabi’s father was in the passenger seat, looking down at his phone, bored because he was only picking up his son. Not anything important. “Xabi, come on. You’ve had all night to say goodbye to your friends. You’ve had all damn night. Hurry up. Time to spend quality time with your family.” His father continued to type away on his phone, nodding in agreement. 

 

“Goodbye,” Xabi breathed, and he leaned in for a kiss. “But not really.” Steven grabbed Xabi’s hand as his mother shouted louder in the background, and his father joined in this time asking Xabi what the hell was up with this new tradition of boys kissing boys and, _is this a new fad, because people are going to think you’re a bunch of homos_. 

 

Xabi kissed him again. “Listen to me, Stevie, goodbye. Goodbye, but not really. You know that right? Never an end. Never really goodbye.” 

 

And he turned on his heel, walked to the car, sat listening to his parents lecture him, but their noise faded away after awhile. He watched Steven the whole way, window rolled down, the chorus of his parents’ lecture blaring for the whole world to hear. 

 

He stared until Steven disappeared, swallowed up in the distance and the light. And Xabi was left with a promise to break. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SOOSOSOSO much for even giving this ridiculous story a chance. I've already started some extra bits that didn't really have a place in the story, but I wanted to write them anyway and I hope you guys stick around for more. I really appreciate all your feedback because it's helped me keep this story alive, and it's helped me improve as a writer, and I really owe that to all of you. I'm still working my way through all your requests, but feel free to request ANYTHING to me at anytime and I'll try and get it done for you.   
> If you ever need me for anything, my twitter is @sanikersaves and my tumblr is ancelotitties. If you ever want to talk about fics, request something, or just tell me something about your life, I'm here.   
> I'll also still be on here (AO3) with one shots and stories coming all the time and I hope to hear from all of you one way or another!   
> Again, I really appreciate everything <3


	23. Origins: Break It To Me Gently

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cristiano and Sergio's freshman year. baby!friends with benefits/power couple in disguise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so if I add chapters with "origins" in the front, it just means these are like flashbacks. Since "fallen" was written when cris and sergio are juniors, anything before that counts as "origins." 
> 
> really happy to be coming back to this story. miss it so much.

Freshman Year, September 2010 

 

Everyone was dressed in black, and there were flowers everywhere. One of the arrangements said “Devoted Husband, Loving Father” and Cristiano looked away because he agreed with the second half, but he couldn’t take the look in his mother’s eyes when she read the first. 

 

Cristiano’s parents had divorced a few years before his father’s death and, even though they ended it peacefully, seeing the arrangements laud his incredible talent at being a husband was-- he feared-- too much for his mother to handle. 

 

He carefully swept the arrangement into the arms of his aunt who gladly and tearfully handed it off to someone else to take home. They always shared the flower arrangements when there was a death. No one wanted to take home that many flowers or that much death. 

 

He was frozen the entire ceremony. He got up to say a few words. He didn’t cry, but his throat closed up and he had to stop several times. In the end, he was proud of himself, and he knew his father would have been too. 

 

Later, they were having a reception in a small room the nuns usually used to tutor children after school. The walls were green and the room was cramped. The food smelled too much like death and flowers to eat. He picked at his food anyway and accepted the condolences when they arrived. 

 

He stepped outside for some fresh air when he needed it. No one bothered him, but they watched him as he went. A lot of people showed up. More than he expected. More than he wanted. 

 

He sat on the front step outside the church, and there was a light breeze that picked at his jacket like it wanted to pull the cumbersome thing away. He shoved his hands in his pockets and let his eyes fill with tears. He jumped at the sound of a voice, and a single tear rolled down his cheek. 

 

“Hey.” Sergio sat on the step beside him. 

 

“Sergio,” he said, surprised though his voice was too dull for the other boy to notice. “I didn’t know you were here.” He pretended to rest his chin on his arm, discreetly wiping the tear away. 

 

“Yeah, I thought it would be nice--” He scratched at his cheek. “You know. I didn’t want you to be all alone. It didn’t seem right.” 

 

Cristiano cleared his throat. He cracked his knuckles one by one. “Right.” 

 

There was a long pause, and Sergio looked uncomfortable. He straightened his tie. Cristiano almost smiled when he saw he was wearing a suit and tie, pressed especially for the occasion like he’d spent the last week calling his mother and asking her to please send his best suit because he had to attend his best friend’s father’s funeral. No, not wedding. Funeral. 

 

“Well thanks,” Cristiano said finally. Another long pause. “It’s just hard, you know?” 

 

“I don’t.” He loosened his tie. “Know,” Sergio clarified. He desperately needed a haircut. “I’ve never lost anyone that close to me. I see how unfair it is, how sad you must be. But watching from the sidelines isn’t exactly the same as losing what you’ve lost.” 

 

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly. “But.” He paused and cracked his knuckles again because that seemed like the right thing to do. “Thanks for coming. I appreciate it, man. I really do.” 

 

“No problem. You know I’m--” He turned bright red. “Always here for you or whatever.” He pushed his long hair off the back of his neck, and Cristiano saw he was blushing all over. 

 

He laughed under his breath. “You know, if you ever met my dad, he’d like you a lot. He likes people who work hard. He likes people who smile.” Cristiano’s smile wavered. “ _Liked_.” 

 

“I’m sure he still does,” Sergio said in an attempt to be cheerful. He took out a pack of gum and offered some to Cristiano. They took one each, but neither unwrapped theirs. “In heaven.” He gestured to the sky. 

 

“You believe in that stuff?” 

 

“Well, no.” Sergio smiled gently. “But I thought you might, so.” 

 

“I don’t,” Cristiano replied bluntly. He unbuttoned the top button of his dress shirt and glared at the sky like that blue canvas was at fault. “Not anymore. I don’t want to sound like that cliche wounded kid, but for fuck’s sake--” He cut off, and Sergio pointedly ignored how shiny his eyes were. “Where the fuck was he?” 

 

“Who?” Sergio was almost afraid to ask. “Your dad? Or...” He drifted off. 

 

“God,” he spat in reply. “My dad was there. My dad was there, sitting in bed, in the hospital. _Sick_. God wasn’t. If there is a God, you can bet your ass that, in my time of dying, I won’t be sitting in a confessional spewing out an apology. If anyone deserves an apology, it’s not the King of fucking Paradise.” 

 

“It’s you,” Sergio finished, because Cristiano got something stuck in his throat. 

 

“No. It’s my family. My mom--” He wasn’t crying. His eyes were just-- he got something stuck in them too. The wind was throwing around all sorts of crazy shit. “It’s not about me. I have to be strong for them. I can’t-- break down. I can’t stop being something solid for them to depend on. I can’t-- shit.” He wiped his eyes. 

 

Sergio looked away. He pulled out his phone, sent an IM to Iker on Skype to amuse himself while Cristiano was... occupied. 

 

sergiofuckingramos: weather nice. cristiano ok. what do i do when someone cries? 

ikercasillas: cris is crying? 

sergiofuckingramos: not talking about him 

ikercasillas: hug them 

sergiofuckingramos: hug? 

ikercasillas: yeah, it’s when you wrap your arms around someone 

sergiofuckingramos: fuck you i know what it means i just ?????? 

ikercasillas: you fucking liar cris is crying 

sergiofuckingramos: iker i swear to god 

sergiofuckingramos: if i tell you something and you know it’s a lie but you get why i would lie to you, don’t point out that it’s a lie 

ikercasillas: i have no idea what you just said 

ikercasillas: wait i think i get it 

ikercasillas: right i hope this mystery person feels better 

ikercasillas: and sergio? 

sergiofuckingramos: ? 

ikercasillas: hugs.  

 

Sergio put his phone down and turned to Cristiano with a very determined, steely sort of expression. He cleared his throat, nodded once, and went in for the hug. Once he was there, Cristiano leaned into him, a warm bundle much softer and smaller than he looked. He sobbed harder and Sergio ghosted a kiss on the top of his head. 

 

“Cris?” he asked, when the crying had quieted. 

 

There was a movement he interpreted as a nod. 

 

“Why do you hold it back? Why don’t you just cry in there like everyone else? I saw grown men crying. It’s not like an--” Sergio looked embarrassed. He didn’t get embarrassed in front of people. Only Cristiano. “--unmanly thing to do,” he continued, blushing all over again. “It’s totally normal to cry. Healthy, even.” 

 

“I know.” He was quiet for a long time. He pulled out of Sergio’s embrace, shot him a grateful look. “I just don’t need for anyone else to see my pain. It doesn’t matter how I feel just as long as my family is okay.” He laughed though nothing was funny. “It’s my responsibility to be strong for them.” 

 

Sergio shrugged. “If you say so.” Cristiano cracked his knuckles again, and Sergio reached over to make him stop. “I don’t know, man. I sort of thought mourning is more important than responsibilities.” 

 

Cristiano suppressed a teary smile. “I should head inside,” he said after a moment. “I don’t want people to think I’ve lost it.” 

 

“Right.” 

 

“But thanks for being here.” He looked mildly embarrassed. “It was really cool of you.” 

 

Sergio shrugged. “Hey, that’s what friends are for, right?” But he sounded less than enthusiastic as he hovered over the word ‘friends.’ And Cristiano didn’t know what to make of it, so he shot him one last strange look and walked back inside to mourn. 

 

+ 

Freshmen Year, October 2010 

 

They were having a pool party at Sergio’s house because it was Labor Day weekend and they had Monday off. He, Iker, and Cristiano were hanging out near the kitchen hoping to steal some food before Sergio’s mother finished lunch, but she was strict about the rules in that respect. There was no eating her food unless it was cooked to absolute perfection. 

 

“Your mom,” Iker whispered a little breathlessly as she swept around the kitchen in her bikini. 

 

“I know,” Sergio groaned. “It’s fucking embarrassing to have her walking around like that.” 

 

“No.” Iker shook his head vigorously. “No, it’s not. It’s not embarrassing.” He bumped Cristiano’s arm, asking for backup. 

 

Cristiano shrugged. “I’m gay.” 

 

Iker stepped back, surprised. There was a flicker of recognition, of _oh shit_ , more panic than a lack of acceptance, and Cristiano opened his mouth to ask if Iker was too, but then he snapped it shut again. No reason to out him before he was ready. 

 

Iker blinked.  “Well. What a way to tell us.” 

 

Sergio shrugged. He rapped on the kitchen door. “I already knew.” He wore an unreadable expression. 

 

“No food until I’m ready,” his mother snapped angrily. “I’m not finished. Your hamburger buns need to be seasoned properly. Garlic bread, boys. Garlic bread.” 

 

+ 

 

Freshmen Year, January 2011 

 

It was freezing cold outside and Sergio hated his roommate, so he was waiting out the snowstorm in Cristiano’s room. Iker had gone to get them more blankets since the heat had shut down and Cristiano’s roommate was off making soup for his sick friend. Sweet gesture. Even sweeter because it meant Sergio being alone with Cristiano. 

 

“Lots of homework?” he asked casually. 

 

“Yeah.” Cristiano shut his eyes and burrowed under his blanket. “English is kicking my ass. _Romeo and Juliet_ is pretty easy, but I always overtalk in seminar and somehow end up insulting my teacher.” 

 

“Who’s your teacher?” 

 

“Pep.” 

 

“Yikes,” Sergio laughed. “He’s not bad. Pretty relaxed and stuff, or that’s what Iker’s told me. But he can be a little touchy if you don’t agree with him.” 

 

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” Cristiano stretched out under the blanket, yawned, shut his eyes and pulled the blanket up to his chin. “Anyway, I’ve got a B and I have to bring it up before my mom asks. I can’t lie to her and I really don’t want the lecture.” 

 

Sergio made a frustrated sound. “My mom figured out how to use that online gradebook thing so she sees all my grades all the time. You’d think she could go back to drinking with her friends all day or something, but nope. She has to spend all that time checking my grades and whining about how I’m not smart enough.” 

 

Cristiano chuckled. “Just let me tutor you. We’ll have your grades up in no time.” 

 

“Really?” 

 

Cristiano looked up. He pulled himself fully upright. Reached out to tuck Sergio’s hair behind his ear. “Get a haircut and it’s a deal.” 

 

+ 

 

Freshmen Year, February 2011 

 

Sergio liked him. Like, really liked him. He liked him so much he felt like his heart was going to burst open. He described this feeling to Iker who promptly replied, “That sounds medical. Have you seen your doctor?” 

 

“I’m telling you it’s not medical. It’s emotional. You remember emotions, don’t you?” 

 

“No, fuck off.” 

 

“Iker,” he whined until Iker looked up impatiently from his studies. 

 

“What, Sergio?” Iker snapped, slamming his notebook shut. His pencil rolled away from his bag. “What do you want me to tell you? That you should go buy him a box of chocolates and flowers and sing to him until his ears bleed and he agrees to fuck you? What then? Your friendship will be ruined. You’ll force me to pick a side, I won’t fucking pick one, and then I lose both of you. And you lose each other. You want me to encourage this madness?” 

 

“Madness--?” 

 

“I swear to god. Quote that movie one more fucking time and I will throw my Chem textbook at your face.” He reopened his textbook, shooting Sergio a glare. 

 

Sergio was pouting, his arms over his chest, leaning back against the bed with a pained expression like someone had just informed him that his favorite band was breaking up. “I won’t fuck it up.” 

 

“You will,” Iker groaned. “And I only say that because I love you with all my heart. You will fuck it up.” 

 

“You know sometimes you take the whole ‘painfully honest’ thing too far,” Sergio replied sourly. 

 

“Maybe I’ll grow out of it.” 

 

“I have a dream,” the other boy muttered under his breath. 

 

Sergio ended up buying Cristiano a box of chocolates. He didn’t tell him how he felt, and he pretended he bought the box of chocolates to share. They didn’t kiss or exchange I love you’s, but later on Iker told Sergio, “You just look like you adore each other” and that was enough. 

 

+ 

 

Freshman Year, March 2011 - August 2011 

 

 

 

They finally kissed in the melting snow after football practice. 

 

Cristiano slid over something and Raul shook his head, made a joke, and Cristiano was still sitting on the ground long after everyone else had walked inside. He was staring at Raul with a funny expression, biting his lip like he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be embarrassed or make an excuse. He didn’t stop staring at his captain’s retreating form until Sergio walked up next to him. 

 

Sergio threw himself in the mud too, and Cristiano rolled on his side to laugh. He laughed until his sides ached, and Sergio threw an arm around him to hold him close. Cristiano felt Sergio’s breath on his cheek. 

 

“Nice fall.” 

 

“Raul seemed impressed.” 

 

“Haven’t you impressed him enough? You broke into the side freshman year. That’s pretty damn good.” 

 

Cristiano shrugged. “Yeah, but I can always be better. That’s what football is all about. That hunger. That desire to win. Not settling for second best.” 

 

Sergio nodded. He kept staring at him, and Cristiano rubbed self-consciously at his face with a nervous laugh. And then Sergio leaned forward impulsively and kissed the other boy until he was gasping for breath, pink in the face. 

 

Cristiano sat back on his heels and touched his swollen lips. He was speechless. 

 

“You just looked like you needed it,” Sergio said. He laughed easily, smirked like the kiss meant nothing, but he felt like something had broken inside of him, like he finally made a mistake he couldn’t fix. 

 

Cristiano grinned, and it began just like that. The first time was loud and hot and neither of them lasted very long. The second time was much slower, but they didn’t look each other in the eyes. 

 

They fucked in the locker room after practice sometimes, and one time Raul walked in. He didn’t say a word, just froze there, surveyed them carefully, then held his hands up like he was innocent and walked away. 

 

After that they locked themselves in Cristiano’s room because his roommate was hardly ever there. They grew more comfortable around each other. They showered together in the mornings if they woke up early enough to avoid being seen. 

 

Cristiano began tutoring Sergio just in time for finals, and his grades improved. To thank him for his time and effort, Sergio’s mother invited Cristiano and his family to spend time on their yacht over the summer. 

 

They fucked in the small yacht bathroom, on the deck when no one else was there, in the room they shared aboard. It was quick mostly, quick and quiet, and afterwards they would lie there and listen to the heavy breathing like that was enough apology for any damage they might have caused the other. 

 

Finally Sergio said, “You know I love you” but it didn’t come out the way he meant it to, and Cristiano just smiled and buried his face in Sergio’s neck, muttering something about “friends” and how “friends help each other out.” 

 

Sergio bit his lip until it bled and he made a small sound of protest at the pain. Cristiano looked up; he licked at the cut until the blood disappeared. And long after Sergio fell asleep, he whispered, “You know I love you too.” 

 


	24. Room for Thieves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yachts, a head injury, and romance novels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title refers to the flirtations of pairings outside of the endgame pairings   
> (and by flirtations i mean TINY TINY flirtations relax)

Iker had a yacht. Of course he had a yacht. Cristiano was still a little bitter about that fucking yacht. Sergio suggested they throw a party to christen the thing, invite 90% of the female population, get drunk like old times, and somersault off the diving board on the back. Cristiano gently reminded him of the additional head injuries that was likely to cause.

 

“Additional?” he echoed, bewildered.

 

“Yeah, because you must have already smacked your head pretty fucking hard to ever think a yacht party would be a good thing,” Iker answered smoothly. He put his sunglasses on and leaned back to tan (burn).

 

Sergio scoffed. He opened his mouth to angrily retort about how a yacht party would literally be the best thing ever when Iker interrupted his frustrated spluttering:

 

“So, Cris, how’s the boyfriend?”

 

Cristiano shrugged. He put a wet towel over his chest. He was tanning less these days. “We’re trying to keep it low key, not make a big deal out of anything because his parents and college and shit.”

 

“Ah, yes. College.” Iker sipped his drink thoughtfully. “I have that summer program starting in a few days. I don’t want to go. I sort of just want to sleep through the rest of my life.”

 

“Sounds reasonable.”

 

“I still want a yacht party,” Sergio grumbled from the corner. He folded his arms over his chest. “I should have gone to Ibiza with Villa and Pique.”

 

“You hate Gerard,” Cristiano reminded him. He shot Iker another look like ‘good thing we’re here to babysit him.’

 

“Yeah, but I was still invited. And I bet they’re doing more than just sitting on a yacht and reading romance novels like saggy hags. I can literally feel myself growing wrinkles as we speak. I want to go out and be young.” Sergio was standing up now, passionate and wound up, and, certain his speech was winning his friends over, he raised his arms up to the heavens. “I want to be free and alive and beautiful. I want to be infinite.”

 

Iker and Cristiano exploded into a fit of wild laughter. “I want to be infinite,” Iker mocked him. Cristiano threw up his arms, imitating the passionate expression that was just starting to fall from Sergio’s features.

 

“Oh, fuck you both. You’re just jealous that I can actually have a functional relationship. At least I don’t have to deal with a religious weirdo.” He stared at Cristiano who rolled his eyes, having been subjected to Sergio’s dramatic outbursts many times before. “--or a tiny boy-child.” His glare intensified when his eyes landed on Iker.

 

“Boy-child?” Iker repeated mildly. “Isn’t a boy technically a child? Aren’t all boys children?”

 

“Shut the fuck up, Iker. I want a yacht party.”

 

“Yeah, well we don’t always get what we want, sergay.” Iker flipped his romance novel open again. He was just getting to the good bits. Florenza and Paolo were seconds from getting together, and Sergio was really fucking up their moment.

 

“We’re teaching you a life lesson,” Cristiano added with a supportive smile. “Life isn’t one long yacht party, my friend.”

 

Iker raised his glass. “Wise words, my friend. Wise words.”

 

“Fine.” Sergio was glaring again. No one was surprised. “I’ll see you in a few days then. Because I’m going to Ibiza. You don’t give me my yacht party, and this is what you get.”

 

“What, are you 12?” Iker snapped.

 

Cristiano groaned. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

 

Sergio rounded on them, eyes flashing furiously, cheeks pink with rage. “This has nothing to DO WITH JESUS,” he shouted. “I want scantily clad teenagers shaking their asses for me. I want to skinny dip with my boyfriend. I WANT AN ORGY. You’re fucking up my plans for an orgy, and I really just can’t deal with you right now.”

 

Iker’s cheeks had turned pink. He was taking deep breaths to avoid the laughter spilling out.

 

Sergio took an emotional, deep breath. “I think we need to take a break. I’ll be in Ibiza.” He shook his head, gave them each one long, dramatic look, and stormed out.

 

It was silent, and then Cristiano whispered, “I want an orgy.”

 

Iker snorted. “This has nothing to do with Jesus, Cristiano. NOTHING TO DO WITH JESUS.”

 

“He’ll be back in a few days.” Cristiano reopened his gossip magazine. Apparently his favorite actor was having an affair with that woman with her own show about Yoga.

 

“Days?” Iker smiled. “Try hours.”

 

+

 

Sergio met David and Gerard at the airport. Gerard smelled like he’d been smoking, but Sergio didn’t comment, just sniffed him curiously with a curious expression. David smiled, his eyes daring Sergio to say something. Gerard looked away, his cheeks pink. A giggle escaped his lips.

 

“I’m not going to ask,” Sergio said. He handed Gerard his luggage. “Let’s go.”

 

“Why do I always have to be the one to carry your shit?”

 

“Because I don’t like you very much,” Sergio answered plainly. “Now lead me to the orgies.”

 

“Orgies?” Gerard looked around cluelessly. “David, what is he talking about?”

 

“It’s better not to ask.” David put an arm around Sergio. “This way, sweetheart.”

 

+

 

As it turned out, Sergio did get his yacht party, but it wasn’t as fun as he thought, especially when he dove off the diving board on the back of the Villa’s yacht and Gerard had to drag him out of the water. They ended up in the emergency room at 1 am, being lectured by the nurse who was bandaging up his head.

 

“I get boys in here all the time…. stupid, stupid boys….causing trouble...always have to go and….and then you just….mess everything up… absolutely irresponsible…” Her voice drifted in and out, and Sergio looked away.

 

“Want me to call your parents?” David asked. He had his phone out, and Gerard was still shivering in the corner.

 

“No.” Sergio touched the bandage on his head. “I don’t even get how it happened, to be honest. I was dancing and then I was about to dive and then I just...fell?”

 

“No, you dove. Or, you kind of half dove, half-danced off the diving board. Your foot got stuck, and you--” Gerard winced. “It was gross. You smacked your head on the diving board, and there was blood.” He looked like he might pass out.

 

“Blood,” David said, very close to his ear, and Gerard looked away, looking green and sickly. “Blood,” David whispered again, his eyes widening. He had a sick fascination with bothering Gerard. “Blood,” he sang again, and Gerard moved to the waiting room to sit down before he keeled over.

 

David put his hand on Sergio’s shoulder. “But really, are you sure you don’t want me to call anyone?”

 

“No. Just take me back to the hotel.” He rubbed the tattoo on his wrist. He pouted. “I really wanted that orgy.”

 

“Another time,” David promised, and he guided Sergio into his own car to take him back to his place. “You’re not going to stay alone in a hotel with a head injury, okay?” David had told him, and Sergio agreed.

 

+

 

By the time they heard about Sergio’s injury, Iker and Cristiano had tanned, read, watched TV, nearly kissed twice just out of sheer desperation, and prank called Cesc until he pretended to be masturbating and Iker almost dropped the phone.

 

“I’m just joking,” he groaned, and Cristiano snickered. Iker was still pink in the face, and he reached for the phone, but Cristiano kicked it away from him, keeping it on speaker phone. “Miss you though, Iker. This vacation sucks. And hey, Cristiano,” he added after a beat.

 

“I am not an afterthought,” Cristiano complained. “I’m just making that clear right now. I am not an afterthought.”

 

“I know you’re not an afterthought. I’m just kind of in love with Iker, or whatever, so.” Cesc cleared his throat.

 

Iker turned even pinker, and he tried to grab the phone. “Cristiano,” he whined. “Give me the phone. I have to tell Cesc stuff about our trip--” He cut off and whispered, “The time in the laundry room, Cris. I have to tell him that we almost kissed in the laundry room.”

 

“We didn’t almost kiss. Our faces were just close.”

 

“That’s what kissing is, Cristiano.” And then, entirely by accident, out loud, “Faces being close.”

 

“What about faces being closed?” Cesc asked. It sounded like he was chewing something. Distracted as usual.

 

“Nothing,” Iker sighed. He shook his head at Cristiano and muttered something about him being a bad influence. “Cesc,” he said, after a long pause, “You should come over. I miss you.”

  
And Cristiano nodded, smiling, like he’d finally said the right thing.


	25. The Golden Age

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cesc visits Iker at Yale for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to make a mix for this later. From now on, I'm making playlists for all of my fics. You can find them all on 8tracks. I'm bellaaros on there.   
> this pairing gives me a lot of feels so the mix will be very (insert loud gross sobbing sound)

He was eating steak and eggs for breakfast, sitting at the corner table. He had three or four friends with him. They all looked studious. Their noses were buried in thick books that looked lethal. Occasionally, one of them would laugh at something (apparently) funny in his thick book, point it out to his friends, and they would all throw back their intelligent heads and laugh because knowledge was just so funny. Iker rarely looked up. He never laughed.

 

Cesc had come to visit for the first time that morning. His flight was overnight, and he was exhausted. He slept little on the plane because flying didn’t normally make him nervous, but he was nervous then because of Iker and because normally he didn’t travel alone, and he tripped a few times on his way to the security checkpoint so he decided the universe must be against him. He was wary and restless for everything after that.

 

He rubbed his eyes some more, propped his chin up, and continued to watch Iker from across the courtyard. He didn’t want to disturb him in front of his new friends because Cesc wasn’t sure how many people knew about Iker being gay, and he wanted a proper introduction, or at least to be able to kiss his boyfriend.

 

He rubbed the sunburn on his nose, and he ducked behind his Yale flyer when he saw Iker looking around for something besides his group of friends. He didn’t see Cesc, and Cesc was feeling rather proud of himself. He decided to wait it out until the friends were gone. Breakfast would be over soon, he hoped.

 

They’d tried skype sex a few times, but Iker was unbelievably awkward with it. Cesc was awkward at first too, but he had a knack for tossing away his pride and just diving into any given situation. “It’s how I survive,” Cesc told Iker, but Iker continued to bite his lip and shake his head, muttering something about how ridiculous he felt.

 

“Oh my god,” Cesc had moaned. “Just pull out your dick and imagine me on it or something.”

 

“Why do I have to imagine it? The fact that I have to imagine it totally sucks, Cesc. If you could just be here, I wouldn’t have to imagine it--”

 

“You’re killing my boner with your whining, you fucker. Pull out your dick.”

 

It worked better after that, after Cesc started taking charge and telling Iker exactly what he had to do in order to wave goodbye to a tiny bit of his pride and let loose. It got hotter too, but there was still a certain degree of awkwardness they would never get over. It was the cameras, Cesc thought. It was like having a third person in the room and not in a hot way.

 

Cesc liked it when Iker called the best. He would never admit it, but just the sound of Iker’s voice when he called to talk about the most mundane things was the best part of Cesc’s day. He knew what classes Iker was taking, nearly memorized his schedule without even trying, bought one of the books Iker was reading for some english seminar. It made him feel connected, like he was still part of Iker’s life without forcing it. And, in return, Iker never gave up. He made quiet sounds on his end of the line when Cesc spoke rapidly about his day. He laughed when he was expected to laugh. He never stopped listening, and he never told Cesc being apart was too much.

 

And then it was like some internal bell rang because all three of Iker’s friends checked their watches at the same time, looked up at each other very formally, nodded stiffly as if they hadn’t just been laughing at their intelligent, witty, oh-so-smart jokes a second earlier, and parted ways. They patted Iker on the shoulder, but they didn’t speak to him.

 

Cesc stood up carefully when Iker was alone. He had his head in his book again, his headphones blasting. Probably something stupid. Cesc hated Iker’s iPod--fucking demon filled with Sergio’s music. He crept along as quietly as he could until he pounced, wrapping his arms around Iker’s neck and making a sound like he was dying.

 

His fork went flying. Luckily, the food remained safe and untouched. Iker shouted in surprise, throwing up his arms to defend himself, thrashing around wildly until he realized it was just Cesc. He calmed, eyes widening. His mouth formed a perfect “O,” and a look softened his eyes that made Cesc understand that although things had changed-- although they had changed-- what was between them had not.

 

“Cesc,” he said quietly, and then again, wrapping his arms around the other boy: “Cesc, you’re here.” They remained like that for too long for the other students to think it was normal, but people either looked away or smiled vaguely in their direction. Cesc shut his eyes and fell into the embrace.

 

+

 

“My room is a little messy right now because Unai came up for break too, and if I had known you were coming, I would have gotten you a hotel room or something. Or, no-- oh my god, I would have gotten you and Unai a room to share. You could take care of him. Or--” Iker scrunched up his face. “He could take care of you. I don’t know. I can’t decide which of you has a worse grasp on reality.”

 

“Fuck you,” Cesc said cheerfully. “I didn’t even know Unai was coming otherwise we could have flow together because flying alone is kind of miserable. You know I need someone to talk to the entire way there otherwise I’ve got all these random thoughts in my head, and what am I supposed to do with all these thoughts if I don’t give them to someone?”

 

Iker laughed under his breath, quietly and delightedly, and then he flung his room door open to reveal Unai creating a blanket empire. He had taken Iker’s roommates sheets, all the extra blankets, his own clothing (to form the base, obviously), and the pillows from what looked like four rooms. He was sitting in the middle of it looking so pleased with himself he might burst.

 

“Hello, Iker,” he said calmly. “Hello, Cesc. Would you like to join me?”

 

“What the fuck,” Iker groaned. “Oh my god, you little fucktrumpet. I left you alone, but for like half a fucking hour and this is what you give me to clean up? A fucking--”

 

“Linen empire,” Unai cut in happily. “I asked everyone’s permission. I didn’t steal anything, just like you told me not to. Iker, I swear on Cesc’s life that I got this stuff with honesty and charm, no foul play.”

 

“Please don’t. Not my life,” Cesc said quietly.

 

“Yeah, don’t drag Cesc into this just because you’re being a little shit.” Iker glared at him. It was difficult to glare at him while he was stretched out on his linen empire. “You swear you didn’t steal anything?”

 

“I swear. And since you don’t have class right now, you should come and do your homework on this thing because it’s the best thing I’ve ever created in my life.”

 

“That worries me,” Iker muttered under his breath. He pushed Cesc forward. “Alright, come on. If I go in, you go in.”

 

“Can we have sex on it later?”

 

“I heard that,” Unai complained from underneath a pillow. He had somehow burrowed himself under the entire thing without it collapsing or wobbling. “And the answer is yes, you may, as long as you get Iker to stop bitching about how I never behave myself.”

 

Cesc nudged Iker’s arm. Iker rolled his eyes. He had a sunburn on his nose, and his eyelashes looked longer than usual, but Cesc guessed it was since it had been so long since they’d last seen each other, and probably not because Iker had come across an eyelash lengthening serum. He wanted to tell him every bit of him looked beautiful, but that wasn’t the sort of thing they said to each other, and it definitely wasn’t the sort of thing they said to each other in front of Unai.

 

Cesc settled on, “God, I’ve missed you like crazy.”

 

+

 

They did end up having sex on it later. Unai had become fast friends with Iker’s roommate because they both watched the same shows, so they went off for a movie night in a friend’s room, though Iker suspected Unai explained the situation, and his roommate was nice enough to give Cesc and Iker the place to themselves for the better part of the evening.

 

The linen empire, thankfully, stayed entirely on Iker’s bed, though it was tangled and crushed and wedged painfully around them by the time they were finished. Cesc was panting in his ear, and Iker was smiling up at the ceiling. He put his arm around Cesc, dreading the moment they would hear a knock on the door and have to scramble around the room for their clothes.

 

“So you missed me, huh?”

 

“Shut up,” Cesc groaned. “We were having a perfectly nice moment, and then you had to ruin it just by being yourself.”

 

“You did miss me,” Iker said proudly.

 

Cesc put his face in Iker’s chest. Everything was too warm, and he kicked off some of the blankets, but he moved closer to Iker. “Did you miss me too?”

 

There was a long pause, and for a moment, Cesc wondered if he’d made a mistake, if maybe he really was the only one that cared in the relationship. The pause was so long that Cesc shut his eyes against Iker’s chest and felt a lump forming in his throat. He was about to rip off the covers and head for the door (entirely naked as he had given no thought to clothes) when Iker cleared his throat.

 

“You have no idea,” Iker started. He seemed unable to finish, and Cesc rolled on to his back to see the other boy’s face better. “Your absence,” he said, starting again, “You have no idea what it does to me. Being away from you. I mean, I can function. I’m not fucking defined by a relationship, you know? And I’m complete on my own. I’m a fully functional human being, alright? I just. I feel better when you’re around. You make me better. You make me want to be better.”

 

Something rose in Cesc’s chest, and he felt a smile tearing at his lips. It was a smile that was difficult to contain, a smile that seemed like it could float off Cesc’s lips and power a fucking city for a lifetime.

 

“You sentimental dipshit,” he cackled, whacking Iker’s arm.

 

“Fuck you,” Iker said, and he rolled over to wrestle Cesc until he relented.

 

“Hey,” he said when he was on top. He pressed his lips to Cesc’s, and the kiss seemed to last decades, not because it was any longer than the others but because they both had the presence of mind to admit that they wouldn’t have much opportunity to kiss like that once the evening ended. “I love you, or whatever,” Iker mumbled.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Cesc mumbled back. “Love you too. Or, whatever.”

 


	26. Temptations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fall semester of Sergio and Cristiano's senior year begins. Getting drunk, puking, new roommates-- you know the drill by now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have something to say about this chapter, but I'm really tired. Maybe I'll edit it and add something useful here later, but anyway thank you all for taking the time to read this ridiculous story because otherwise I would just be sitting here laughing at my stupid jokes all by myself

“Oh my god,” Fabio was whispering into his ear. “Oh my god, I think my vomit just vomited.”

 

“Jesus,” Cristiano muttered. “Why am I always the person to drag you out of the toilet?”

 

“No, man, no--” Fabio held up a hand. “It’s coming. My vomit is coming back to vomit again.”

 

“Fuck,” Cristiano said mildly. “Find a bucket or something, man. I’m not going to clean this up again.”

 

“You didn’t clean it up last time. Juan cleaned it up.”

 

Cristiano smiled affectionately. “Right. Aren’t we lucky we got the only threesome on the floor?”

 

Fabio shrugged. He didn’t even make a face at ‘threesome’. “Well, I wouldn’t say lucky, but--”

 

Cristiano made a face like someone just made him swallow a toad. “Did you lose the ability to distinguish sarcasm from reality. Like, fucking what even? His chemistry stuff is constantly on my desk. Like, who even likes chemistry?”

 

Fabio held his stomach, nodded. “That’s what I always say. It’s the subject of the devil. All those moles and you measure things in those tubes--” He cut off, turned casually to grab Juan’s blue trashcan, and vomited right into it. “--with acids?”

 

Cristiano gave him a disgusted look. He straightened his tie. “You really shouldn’t drink. Your hangovers are literally a nightmare for everyone involved. It’s like sitting with someone whose sole purpose is to puke up everything he’s ever eaten in his life.”

 

“Sh.” Fabio shut his eyes. “If you say puke again, I’m going to have to bring Juan’s trash can with me.”

 

Cristiano didn’t even blink. “Puke. Puke. Pukepukepukepuke--”

 

Fabio doubled over with his face in the can.

 

Juan opened the door with a smile. “Hey, guys. How are you? Did you enjoy the party last night? I have to say, I actually had a pretty good time--” He stopped. His book fell to the floor. “Is that puke in my trash can?”

 

Fabio, who had just set down the trash can, winced at the word puke, rushed over to the nearest bed, and used the covers as a makeshift bucket.

 

Cristiano smiled. “Well now there’s puke in your bed too, so.” He leaned over to pat Juan comfortingly. “First day of class. Aren’t you happy to be back?”

 

+

 

neighmos logged on at 7:04 am

crustyanus logged on at 7:30 am

neighmos: ???? who’s this litlte shit

crustyanus: what are you even talking about

neighmos: cristiano ronaldo who is my roommate WHO IS HE

crustyanus: didn’t you meet him last night at the “mixer?”

neighmos: if you think for a second that i was sober enough to “meet” my new “roommate” you’re out of your fucking “mind”

crustyanus: i don’t think you understand how to use the quotation marks

crustyanus: and iDK what’s his name i probably met him last night seeing as i was the only sober one

neighmos: juan was sober too

neighmos: boring little gnome shit i want to pile leaves on his head and just blow them all off with my hot saliva breath

crustyanus: sounds reasonable

crustyanus: why do you hate him anyway jfc wasn’t he your chem partner last year?

neighmos: yeAH the one who spilled acid on my hand

crustyanus: it was like salt water relax

neighmos: clumsy little shit

neighmos: francisco alarcon or whatver he’s the transfer of couRSe they stuck me with some weirdo transfer kid who doesn’t know shit about how shitty this place is

crustyanus: isco??

crustyanus: yeah don’t call him francisco he gets shy when you do that

neighmos: how not fucking cute

crustyanus: and he’s got a cute babyface you won’t completely hate looking at him

neighmos: is he in our grade?

crustyanus: no, junior

neighmos: uGHhhhhh literally what the fuck

neighmos: at least you got fabio

neighmos: bye class

neighmos logged off at 7:56

crustyanus: you just went into the wrong classroom

 

+

 

Cesc was in Painting 1 when the door slammed open. He pulled out his headphones, and his jaw dropped open. The “new” kid was wearing a badass leather jacket over his uniform. His jacket was open, his tie undone and thrown over his shoulder. His hair stuck up in the back, and a button was hanging by a thread on his school issued, very wrinkled jacket.

 

The art teacher looked up angrily. “Mr. Casillas, I presume. You’re late.”

 

He chewed his gum loudly, walked over to drop his late slip on her desk. “Yeah, I know. Thanks for having me.” He flashed her a quick smile.

 

“Unai,” Cesc hissed, waving his arms. “Unai, come here.”

 

“Oh,” Unai said loudly, “There’s my brother’s boyfriend. I think I found my new seat. Thanks for the seating chart though. I’m sure that’s… helpful.”

 

He crossed the room, ignoring the stares, and slid into the rickety plastic chair across from Cesc. “Hey, sunshine. This place is a shithole.”

 

Cesc grinned, but he was a little thrown. Iker hadn’t mentioned anything about his brother transferring, and the Unai Cesc knew from summer was not the Unai who was staring across the table at him. This Unai was badass and hot and hot. The Unai from the summer was the one who looked up at Iker with adoration and pinched his brother on the arm where he knew it hurt, and not so fucking hot.

 

“Uh, so how are you here right now? I’m not, like, high or something?”

 

“Dude,” Unai said seriously, “Don’t do drugs.” He smirked. “Yeah, my parents pulled a few strings. I guess they didn’t want to do anything until Iker graduated because apparently I give our family a bad name. Ha. As if.” He spat his gum into the cup with the dirty water.

 

“Please. You make your family way more interesting.”

 

“Right? That’s what I keep saying, but my dad just keeps going on about getting a degree in--” Unai waved his hand around in the air. “Whatever the hell he does all day. I don’t know, like a degree in being an absolute penis or something.”

 

Cesc snorted into his palm. He went back to his painting of an orange. “I had no idea you were going to be here, but I’m happy you are.”

 

“Yeah, probably because Iker doesn’t know yet. My parents literally just finalized everything last night. I was all prepared to have another week off because my old school starts late, and then at, like, 10, they come into my room and expect me to jump up and down and be all grateful?” Unai raised an eyebrow, shook his head vigorously. “Like, no? The only thing I’m grateful for is that this is a boarding school. Meaning I don’t have to see them for awhile. But I was on a train like all night and I’m exhausted, and I have no clue who my roommate is.”

 

“Probably a shithead,” Cesc interjected helpfully. He splattered Unai’s paper with paint. “I mean, the only people I know with singles are that new, really shy kid Asher or something, Javi Martinez-- fuck, I hope you get him-- and that nice looking weasel kid.”

 

“Okay, I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean, but thanks, I guess. Who’s the least bad?”

 

Cesc put the end of the paintbrush in his mouth. “I don’t know Asher. Javi is amazing. That ferret kid-- ah, what’s his name-- Macro?”

 

“Marco? Are you dyslexic?”

 

“Yeah, Marco. The blond. Roose or something.”

 

“Marco Roose?”

 

Cesc rolled his eyes frustratedly like How do you expect me to know. “I don’t know? But yeah, I’ve heard he’s a little stuck up. Just because he’s nice looking and all.”

 

“Are you developing a crush on this weasel-ferret kid?” Unai raised an eyebrow, and Cesc had to think IkerIkerIker really hard. “Is this something I should talk to my brother about?”

 

“Oh, fuck off. I said the kid was nice looking, not that I wanted his dick up my asshole.”

 

Unai smirked. “Yeah? So are there actually any straight boys at this school because, from what I can tell-- no offense-- but, like, you’re all bumming each other. Like, you read, you study, and then you bum each other, and that’s it.”

 

“That’s it, you’re right. That’s literally all we do here.” Unai snickered at Cesc’s attempt at a serious face, and Cesc felt pride blossom in his chest. “But, uh, yeah Javi is straight. His girlfriend is a fucking goddess. No clue why she’s dating him. He’s an idiot. Fabio is, like, mostly straight, but I think he likes guys too. But, like, mostly straight.”

 

“Mostly straight is good enough.”

 

“What, are you only going to befriend straight guys?”

 

“Obviously that’s what I’m going to do, you absolute buffoon. I’m going to completely ditch you and start hanging out with only straight guys just because I’m straight so we can form our own little straight league and have a straight support group with straight food and straight drinks and maybe we’ll get straight high too. All together. Straight.” Unai rolled his eyes. “I’m not a scrotum, you know. Jesus.”

 

“Scrotum,” Cesc mouthed, and Unai started cracking up again.

 

+

 

“WHAT,” Sergio shouted, and he tackled Unai, covering him with his body, flapping his arms. “WHAT. WHAT. UNAI. WHAT. UNAI CASILLAS. YOU SHIT AMONG MEN. I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE HERE.”

 

Cristiano walked up and winced. “Who is Sergio traumatizing right now?” He set fries in front of Fabio who patted his ass fondly.

 

“UNAI,” Sergio shouted. He rolled off the poor kid and kicked him in Cristiano’s direction.

 

Cristiano jumped up, wrapped him into an enormous hug, and started loading him down with all the lunches on the table. “Here, Fabio is getting chubby anyway. Take his lunch. Oh my god, I can’t believe you’re here. Oh my god, Iker must be flipping his shit. Oh my god. Take my fries too.”

 

Unai slid in next to Cesc and picked off his plate instead. “Thanks, Cris.” He had a special, more familiar smile reserved for Cristiano and Sergio. “But I hear that now you’ve got less body fat than a model, so I’m kind of worried about you. I think you need those fries.”

 

Cristiano grinned. “You’re turning into such a pretentious douchebag. I’m so proud.”

 

Unai whispered something to Cesc about the chemical makeup of what their cafeteria was calling an enchilada. Cesc laughed until he couldn’t breathe, blushed until the entire table was staring.

 

Sergio raised an eyebrow in Cristiano’s direction. They had a staring contest until Fernando showed up with a salad. “I’m on a diet,” he explained before anyone could ask. “Hello, Iker’s brother. I was filing in the office, and I saw your name come up, and I almost couldn’t believe it.”

 

Unai nodded. “Sorry, diet?”

 

“Yeah, it’s where you only eat certain foods. For example, today I am eating only vegetables with a little bit of chicken--”

 

Unai gave him what Iker always called the ‘crazy eyes’. “No, yeah, I got what a diet was. I was neglected as a child, not dropped. I was just wondering why because you’re like a fucking noodle.”

 

“Have you seen his ass?” Cristiano put in before biting into his sandwich. “MMMMM,” he said loudly. “Turkey, chicken, salami, mustard. Amazing. Bread. Bread isn’t a vegetable. How does it feel to not be able to eat bread, freckles?”

 

“I will punch you in the face, you tan piece of dick.”

 

Sergio patted his hand. “I love your ass, just for the record.”

 

Cristiano shrugged. “So do I, I’m just saying.” He cut his sandwich in half, slid the untouched half over to Fernando. “Seriously, the diet is a stupid idea. Have some delicious carbs. I’ll work out with you after school if you want.”

 

Fernando sighed loudly. “Fine. Fine I will eat your sandwich, but I don’t take back what I said about you being a piece of dick.”

 

“And I don’t take back what I said about bread being amazing,” Cristiano said with a wink.

 

“And we’re running at least two miles.” Fernando narrowed his eyes. He and Cristiano were getting along better, but they were catty.

 

“A walk in the park.”

 

“Hey,” Unai called from the other end of the table. His hand lingered on Cesc’s back as he leaned over. “Do you guys know who some Asier kid is-- not fucking Asher, Cesc.”

 

“Yeah,” Cristiano said, tossing Fernando a packet of mayo. He flicked it away disgustedly. “I know him. Met him at the mixer last night. We’ve got three transfers this year. Isco-- Sergio’s roommate, and I think he might be trying out for the team; That Asier kid; and Jeséwho is apparently some kind of swimming god. Isco’s a junior, and the other two are sophomores.”

 

Sergio shook his head proudly. “Look at all the knowledge he’s able to store in that beautiful brain when he’s sober.”

 

“This is what sober does to you, Sergio--”

 

“Yeah, fucks you up--”

 

“Gives you the ability to use your brain for something other than directing your puke into a bucket.”

 

“Excuse you,” said Sergio, highly affronted. “I’m not a fucking amateur, you fuck trumpet. I puke out the window or into the toilet, not into a bucket.”

 

Unai snorted. “So this Asier kid isn’t that bad?”

 

Cristiano shrugged. He chewed his food carefully, eyes lingering on how close Cesc was sitting to Unai. “Uh, yeah, he’s actually pretty quiet, so I have no idea. Really shy, but that’s just his personality, I guess.”

 

Unai nodded, stuffed another fry into his mouth. “Guess that’s a good thing.”

 

Cesc checked his phone. “Ah, shit.” He gathered up his books, nudged Unai’s arms, and the two of them quickly said their goodbyes before rushing off to Physics which, apparently, was starting ten minutes early on the first day of class because of some scheduling fuck-ups.

 

Sergio caught Cristiano’s eye. “I’m not going to say anything if you’re not going to say anything. This could all be in my head.” Fernando was distracted, moaning into his sandwich.

 

“Unai’s just a flirt,” Cristiano said, watching the way Unai slung his arm around Cesc as they rushed off, poking each other in the ribs until they ran into someone. “That’s how he’s always been.”

 

“Yeah, but it’s always been innocent until now. Now he’s like--” Sergio cut off. “Now he’s like me.” His eyes widened. “Holy shit, we’ve got a problem on our hands.”

 

+

 

ikurquesadilla: hows it goin

crustyanus: did you hear about your brother being here?????

ikurquesadilla: yeah, but if i hadn’t, i guess that would be you spoiling the surprise

crustyanus: ug h a year later and you’re still just as annoying as ever

ikurquesadilla: :) :) :) how is everything there?

crustyanus: it’s good. your brother fits in well. he flirts a lot

ikurquesadilla: good!!!!!! he’s always worried about being in my shadow and that literally makes me so upset so i’m glad he’s going out there and owning his life or whatever, you know????

crustyanus: yeah, you’re right

ikurquesadilla: keep an eye on him though?? make sure he’s ok and make sure he dOES HIS HOMEWORK

crustyanus: oh my god are you 80??? i will ride his ass until he does everything r u happy?

ikurquesadilla: yES now i have a paper to finish enjoy rooming with fabio and juan xoxoxooxoxo

ikurquesadilla logged off at 4:21 pm

 

+

 

Sergio was lounging on his bed when his incredibly beautiful roommate walked in. He threw his stuff on his own bed. Sat down and removed his running shoes. He was sweaty, pink-faced, and good-looking in the way Fernando was good-looking. His features looked like they were carved out of something more delicate and more beautiful than marble.

 

“Hey,” he said casually, waving at Sergio. “I’m Isco.”

 

“Yeah,” said Sergio. He moved his mouth but no sound came out. “Uh, yeah I’m Isco-- I mean, Sergio. I’m Sergio. You’re Isco. Nice to meet you too. We’re roommates.”

 

“Yeah, I gathered that much.” Where other people would have said it with an air of superiority, Isco smiled pleasantly and walked over to hold his hand out for Sergio to shake. Even his hands were delicate and smooth and just pretty.

 

Sergio stared at it for a second before reaching forward, too eagerly, to shake it. “Yeah,” he said in response to nothing. “So are you trying out for the team, or…?

 

Isco sat back down on his bed. He pulled off his damp shirt and tossed it in the direction of the hamper. He missed by a long shot. “Yeah. Dunno if I’ll make it. I hear this new captain’s a real asshole.”

 

“I’m the new--” He cut off when he realized Isco was laughing. “Oh. Right.” He laughed under his breath, trying not to sound like he was drunk on staring at the other boy.

 

“I’m a fan. I know that sounds kind of odd seeing as I come from your rival school, but seriously, they made us watch tapes of your school’s team and you guys are incredible.” He shook his head, had that look in his eyes that Sergio saw people get sometimes when they talked about love or life or football.

 

“We are pretty incredible,” Sergio finally managed. He pinched his wrist and tried not to revert to his old ‘Well I’m not cut out to be loyal anyway’ type thinking. Fernando, he thought. Fernando’s ass. Fernando’s freckles. Fernando’s laugh.

 

Isco smiled, and Sergio pinched his wrist harder.

  
  
  


He organized the clothes in his closet by color. His pink section was nearly as big as Sergio’s--if Sergio had a section specifically for pink, that is-- and the whites were mostly Real Madrid jerseys collected over the years.

 

“This guy graduated a few years ago. Raul. Mark my words, he’s going to be a legend at Real Madrid someday. That guy has what it takes.”

 

“Mmm,” Isco said vaguely. Then, “I remember seeing him in a video. Number seven, yeah? Before Cristiano took over?”

 

“Already an expert,” Sergio said with a grin. “You’ll be great. I’m sure even that asshole captain guy will like you.”

 

+

 

neighmos: lol fuk my life

crustyanus: what is it

neighmos: my roommate

neighmos: is like

neighmos: so fucking hot

neighmos: he took his shirt off and i almost collapsed

crustyanus: can u hold it together honestly omg

neighmos: no

neighmos: he has eyes

crustyanus: people tend to have those

neighmos: and this mouth

crustyanus: what really??

neighmos: and i’m sorry but i think i’ve developed a thing for nipples because when he took off his shirt !1112324!!!! WooWowoWOWOwwWWwWw

crustyanus: dear god

crustyanus: what did i ever do to deserve this

neighmos: help me with english hmk and i’ll shut up

crustyanus: fine, try not to pop a boner when isco walks past

crustyanus logged off 5:30 pm

 

+

 

It was close to midnight, and Fabio was sleeping in Cristiano’s bed because Juan had taken his because of the puke that no one wanted to move. Cristiano couldn’t sleep, partly because he had a lot on his mind and partly because he was watching a really good movie. There was a quiet knock on the door, and he paused, gently set the computer down next to Fabio, and crossed the room silently to answer it.

 

“Leo?”

 

“Hey,” he whispered back. “I figured you’d still be up.”

 

Cristiano just stared at him for a second. “You know I despise you, right?”

 

“Of course. I feel the same way.” He had a new haircut, and Cristiano would have complimented him on it if they were friends, but they most definitely were not. Still, it looked nice on him. Well, not nice, but as close to nice as Cristiano was willing to admit.

 

“I think you’re the only person who can actually keep surprising me after all this time.” It was the closest they would ever get to a compliment.

 

Leo pretended to sigh dreamily. “That’s starting to sound a little sappy.”

 

Cristiano leaned against the door like he was preparing to share something from the deepest parts of his soul. “I know, it’s because I’m watching this movie that makes me want to cry. It makes me emotional, man, I don’t know what to tell you. You caught me at a bad time.”

 

Leo rolled his eyes. “What are you watching?”

 

Cristiano hesitated. “It’s incest-y.”

 

“Game of Thrones,” Leo replied, pointing to himself. “You don’t have to worry about me freaking out.”

 

Cristiano nodded. Game of Thrones explained everything. “It’s this Brazilian movie that Fabio picked out, but he fell asleep before we could finish.”

 

Leo shrugged. “Break room is open and empty if you want to take it in there and have a movie night?”

 

Cristiano ran his fingers through his hair. “You promise not to get a raging erection when two really hot guys make out?”

 

Leo thought about it long and hard. Pulled his lip into his mouth. “Can’t make any promises.”

 

“Good because neither can I.” Cristiano grabbed his laptop and shut the door quietly. “God, soon we’ll be holding hands, singing kumbaya, and watching porn together. You know what they say about boner buddies: friends for life.”

 

“Ew, don’t touch me. I’m serious. Do not even breath close to me.”

 

“Oh my god, why do we even hang out, seriously, you’re so annoying--”

 

“--Can we just please sit down and watch incest. I don’t even want to hear your voice anymore--”


	27. Announcement: Sequel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry to make this announcement a whole chapter, but i just wanted people to know that I'm turning this second year into a sequel. Chapter 26 was the first part of this new sequel, and I'll continue from there. I just didn't want anyone to miss it! :)

I guess I have to write something here just so it will post. Anyway, hope you enjoy the sequel and if you have any problems finding it, please just comment and let me know, and I'll link you right away. :) The next chapter (first chapter of the sequel) will be up very soon.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Jailbait](https://archiveofourown.org/works/922082) by [cristianoronaldo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cristianoronaldo/pseuds/cristianoronaldo)




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